THE  KEY  OF  THE  UNKNOWN 


SECOND   EDITION 


THE  KEY  OF 
THE    UNKNOWN 

By   ROSA   NOUCHETTE    CAREY 


Author  of  "No  Friend  Like  a  Sister,"  "The  Household 

of  Peter,"  "At  the  Moorings,"  "A  Passage 

Perilous,"  etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 


Copyright  1909 
By  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company 


Published  September,  1909 


THE  KEY  OF  THE 
UNKNOWN 

i 

JOAN  REFUSES  TO  DEFEND  HERSELF 

Speak  gently !  it  is  better  far 

To  rule  by  love  than  fear. 
Speak  gently !  let  no  harsh  word  mar 

The  good  we  would  do  here. 

G.  W.  Langford. 

Life  is  mostly  froth  and  bubble ; 

Two  things  stand  like  stone — 
Kindness  in  another's  trouble, 

Courage  in  your  own. 

Lindsay  Gordon. 

Lady  Mary  was  silent. 

Outside,  the  lawns  and  tlower-borders  lay  in  the 
spring  sunshine ;  the  sweet  confusion  of  tulips,  daffodils, 
hyacinths,  with  a  dark  velvety  background  of  wall- 
flowers, filled  the  air  with  fragrance  and  with  a  perfect 
riot  of  colour  which  defied  rule  and  delighted  the  eyes. 

The  outlook  from  the  pleasant  sitting-room  at 
Morningside  was  fair  enough ;  but  within  there  was 
something  disturbing  in  the  atmosphere — a  sense  of 
tension,  of  opposing  forces,  of  conflicting  wills.  Lady 
Mary  was  deeply  hurt:  the  lines  of  her  fine  aristocratic 
face  had  stiffened  during  the  last  few  moments ;  her 
full-toned  voice,  which  had  been  soft  and  sweet  as  a 
ringdove's  in  the  Brantwood  copse,  had  ceased  its  per- 
suasive eloquence  and  the  sudden  silence  made  itself 
felt   so   oppressively   that   Cocker,    the   old   brown   and 

7 


8  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

white  spaniel,  stirred  uneasily  on  his  luxurious  mat  and 
cast   a   sleepy   glance  in   his  mistress's   direction. 

Clearly  something  was  wrong  with  his  human  friends ; 
and  an  angry  sob  from  Joan,  which  not  all  her  efforts 
could  repress,  roused  him  in  earnest,  and  the  next 
moment  he  was  in  her  lap  trying  to  lick  her  face.  But 
the  girl  pushed  him  away  in  her  irritation. 

"  Be  quiet,  Cocker.  No,"  her  voice  softening  as  the 
old  dog  whined  in  sympathy,  "  you  cannot  help  me, 
you  dear  old  fellow." 

"  No  one  can  help  you,  Joan,  as  long  as  you  refuse 
to  open  your  eyes  and  acknowledge  the  truth."  But 
Lady  Mary's  tone  was  somewhat  chilling  in  its  dignity ; 
it  was  evident  that  her  patience  had  been  sorely  tried. 

She  had  been  talking,  arguing,  persuading  for  nearly 
an  hour,  but  Joan  was  impossible.  She  had  refused 
almost  passionately  to  regard  herself  as  a  culprit,  or  to 
own  that  she  had  done  anything  wrong.  For  the  first 
time  she  turned  on  that  dearly  beloved  friend  with 
reproach  and  anger. 

"  You  are  unjust  to  me,  Lady  Mary,"  she  repeated 
for  the  second  time.  "  Why  should  I  submit  tamely  to 
such  accusations  when  they  are  not  true?" 

"  Joan,  Joan,  would  you  tell  me  to  my  face  that  I  am 
a  liar?"  and  a  delicate  flush  rose  to  Lady  Mary's  face. 

"  You  know  such  a  thought  never  entered  my  head," 
returned  the  girl  indignantly ;  "  but  all  the  same  you  are 
utterly  mistaken." 

"  Am  I  mistaken  in  thinking  that  Craig  has  been 
making  love  to  you  ?  "  demanded  Lady  Mary  with  in- 
creasing sternness. 

"  No,  for  it  is  the  truth,  and  God  forbid  that  T  should 
deny  it !  But  am  T  to  blnme  because  T  have  found  favour 
in  vour  nephew's  eyes?"  And  there  was  a  naughty 
sparkle  of  triumph  in  Joan's  own  eyes  as  she  spoke 
which  contradicted  her  assumed  calmness.  But  the  next 
moment  it  was  repressed. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  defend  mvself  with  words," 


Joan  Refuses  to  Defend  Herself  9 

she  continued,  "  when  my  actions  have  sufficiently  proved 
my  innocence." 

"  You  mean  that  you  have  refused  him?" 

"  Yes,  I  mean  that,  though  I  never  told  you  so,  and 
I  think  I  deserve  praise  instead  of  blame  from  Craig's 
people.  I  wonder  what  other  girl  in  my  position  " — 
here  Joan's  breast  heaved  stormily — "  would  have  be- 
haved half  as  well !  " 

A  faint  smile  crossed  Lady  Mary's  countenance : 
Joan  was  evidently  well  equipped  for  her  defence. 

"  Yes,  but,  Joan,  dear  child,  if  you  could  only  assure 
me,  for  my  own  and  Lady  Merriton's  comfort,  that  you 
are  in  no  danger  of  returning  Craig's  affection."  Then 
the  young  girl  drew  herself  up  with  a  haughty  gesture. 

"  How  dare  you  or  any  one  ask  me  such  a  question  1 
When  I  would  not  even  answer  Craig,  do  you  think 
any  other  person  would  have  a  chance !  Has  a  girl  no 
right  to  be  the  keeper  of  her  own  heart  and  conscience, 
that  you  would  seek  to  tear  out  her  most  sacred  secrets  f 
No,  I  will  not  answer  you,  Lady  Mary;  I  refuse  to  be 
cross-examined  and  treated  as  a  naughty  child !  "  Then, 
as  she  saw  the  pained  expression  on  her  friend's  face, 
Joan's  proud  stubbornness  relaxed  a  little.  "  I — I  do 
not  wish  to  grieve  you — perhaps  I  had  better  go  away. 
If  I  stayed  longer  I  might  say  something  which  I  should 
regret — you  have  been  so  hard  on  me,  and  I  am  not 
myself."  And  the  girl  looked  so  pale  and  drooping 
that  Lady  Mary's  kind  heart  was  touched. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  be  hard,  Joan,  but  you  have  tried 
me  sorely.  Yes.  you  shall  go,  and  we  will  finish  our  talk 
another  time.  There  is  more  that  I  have  to  say  " — with 
a  heavy  sigl. — "  but  we  are  not  fit  for  it  just  now.  You 
are  young,  my  dear,  and  you  are  only  thinking  of  your- 
self, but  I  am  bound  to  consider  my  brother's  interests." 

"  If  I  am  to  be  a  trouble  to  you,  you  had  better  send 
me  away."  Then  Lady  Mary  winced  slightly.  How 
strange  that  Joan  should  say  that !  The  arrow  unawares^ 
finds  its  mark  sometimes. 


10  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  We  will  finish  our  talk  later,  she  said  gently.  "  I 
think  I  shall  send  a  note  to  Lady  Merriton  and  tell  her 
that  I  have  a  headache,  and  ask  her  to  excuse  us  this 
evening."  She  looked  a  little  anxiously  at  Joan  as  she 
said  this. 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  would  be  best.  I  had  certainly 
no  intention  of  accompanying  you  to  the  Abbey."  Joan's 
air  was  slightly  defiant,  but  Lady  Mary  had  no  wish 
to  renew  the  argument. 

"  I  am  glad  we  are  in  one  mind  on  that  point. 
Willis  shall  take  the  note  when  he  goes  out.  Do  not 
let  me  keep  you,  Joan,  the  air  will  do  you  good."  And, 
holding  out  her  soft  white  hand,  "  We  will  not  part  in 
anger,  my  dear."  But  though  the  girl  yielded  to  the 
kindly  overture,  the  kiss  of  peace  was  given  so  re- 
luctantly that  Lady  Mary  could  not  fail  to  notice  it. 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  the  door  closed  on 
Joan.  She  brushed  them  away  with  a  hand  that  was 
not  as  firm  as  usual.  She  must  write  her  note  to  her 
sister-in-law ;  it  need  only  be  brief,  Hildegarde  would 
understand  that  the  headache  was  only  an  excuse,  and 
she  would  keep  Merriton  from  making  fussing  inquiries. 
It  was  no  falsehood,  for  her  head  had  been  throbbing 
during  the  last  ten  minutes ;  she  would  be  thankful 
for  a  little  solitude  to  collect  her  thoughts. 

The  note  written  and  despatched.  Lady  Mary  settled 
into  her  easy-chair  and  closed  her  eyes.  A  scene  such 
as  this  had  taxed  her  serenity  rather  heavily,  there  was 
a  real  ache  at  her  heart.  "  This  sort  of  thing  ages  one," 
she  said  to  herself.  But  there  were  few  signs  of  age 
about  Lady  Mary ;  she  carried  her  fifty-five  years  very 
gallantly.  She  was  a  handsome,  well-preserved  woman, 
and  her  quiet,  regular  life  had  kept  her  young.  People 
were  often  surprised  to  find  that  she  was  over  fifty. 
But  she  was  accustomed  to  speak  quite  frankly  about 
her  age.  "  I  am  five  years  younger  than  Merriton,"  she 
would  saw  "  Yes,  we  both  wear  well — we  are  neither 
of   us   afraid   of   air   and   exercise."     Nevertheless,    as 


Joan  Refuses  to  Defend  Herself        11 

Lady  Mary  sat  alone  in  the  spring  sunshine,  she  told 
herself  that  her  interview  with  Joan  had  aged  her. 

Joan  was  very  dear  to  her ;  she  often  spoke  of  her 
as  her  adopted  daughter,  and  all  these  years  she  had 
treated  her  with  the  tenderness  of  a  mother.  Joan's 
father,  the  Rev.  Herbert  Leigh,  had  been  a  distant 
cousin  of  Lady  Mary's  husband ;  but  Sir  Martin  Boyle 
had  taken  very  little  notice  of  the  Leigh  family  until 
after  his  cousin's  death.  He  came  back  from  the 
funeral  looking  rather  grave  and  impressed. 

"  I  am  afraid  they  will  be  left  rather  badly  off,"  lie 
said  to  his  wife,  "  so  it  was  a  mercy  all  those  children 
did  not  live.  They  have  actually  lost  five — most  of 
them  boys — and  there  is  only  one  grown-up  son  and  a 
little  girl,  Joan,  left.  Poor  Mrs.  Leigh  told  me  all  about 
it;  she  said  she  and  her  husband  had  never  got  over 
their  loss." 

"  Five  children,  I  should  think  not !  "  And  Lady 
Mary,  who  was  childless,  thought  sadly  of  the  full 
nursery  which  death  emptied. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  continued  Sir  Martin,  "  she  said 
something  about  a  baby  girl — that  makes  six."  Then, 
as  he  caught  sight  of  Lady  Mary's  sad,  wistful  face,  he 
hurried  on.  "  Of  course  it  was  very  rough  on  the 
Leighs ;  but  still,  with  delicate  health  and  that  narrow 
income,  how  could  he  have  clothed  and  fed  and  educa- 
ted eight  children?" 

"  Of  course  I  understand  what  you  mean,  Martin." 

"  The  boy  Heath  seems  a  very  promising  young 
fellow.  He  has  won  more  than  one  scholarship  and  is 
doing  splendidly  at  Oxford.  His  mother  seems  very 
proud  of  him.  I  was  thinking,  Mary,  that  one  might 
hold  out  a  helping  hand  to  a  manly  young  fellow  like 
Heath  Leigh  who  knows  how  to  work.  Vincent  told 
me  that  he  was  a  clever,  pushing  fellow,  who  would 
make  his  mark  some  dav." 

"  And  the  child  Joan?  " 

"  Oh,  she  is  a  mere  babv.     A  taking  little  creature 


12  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

enough,  not  pretty,  but  very  winning  in  her  ways, — 
regularly  spoilt,  I  should  say.  Why,  there's  eighteen 
or  nineteen  years  between  her  and  Heath." 

Sir  Martin  kept  his  word  and  did  a  kinsman's  part 
by  the  widow  and  her  two  children.  More  than  once 
Mrs.  Leigh  and  Joan  stayed  at  Roskill  Priory,  Sir 
Martin  Boyle's  place.  Heath  Leigh  came  often.  Both 
Lady  Mary  and  her  husband  thought  highly  of  him.  His 
career  at  Oxford  had  been  brilliant.  He  was  ordained 
and  had  a  fellowship,  and  his  friends  prophesied  great 
things  of  him.  In  his  heart  Heath  Leigh  was  inclined 
to  agree  with  them ;  he  had  plenty  of  assurance  and 
self-confidence,  which  had  helped  him  over  many  a 
difficult  place,  but  it  must  be  owned  that  he  was  careful 
to  conceal  this.  He  was  quiet  and  a  little  reserved  in 
manner,  and  he  and  Lady  Mary  became  great  friends. 
But  her  aristocratic  soul  was  secretly  disappointed  when 
the  young  fellow  of  Oriel  threw  up  his  fellowship  to 
marry  the  only  daughter  of  a  wealthy  haberdasher  in 
Leeds,  who  brought  her  husband  a  rich  dower. 

Heath  would  tell  his  wife  laughingly  sometimes, 
that  he  was  born  under  a  lucky  star,  things  went  so  well 
with  him.  He  had  honestly  fallen  in  love  with  Silence 
Wootton,  and  had  sacrificed  his  fellowship  without  much 
regret ;  but  it  was  not  long  before  a  good  living  was 
offered  to  him.  Kelmscott  Rectory  was  only  a  few 
miles  from  Leeds,  where  Silence  had  lived  all  her  life ; 
and  if  this  were  privately  a  matter  of  regret  to  Heath, 
he  was  sufficiently  infatuated  with  his  young  wife  to  be 
able  to  sympathise  with  her  joy  in  being  within  reach 
of  her  parents,  and  he  certainly  behaved  very  well  on 
the  whole,  though  he  and  his  father-in-law,  a  pompous, 
purse-proud  man,  had  nothing  in  common.  Mrs. 
Wootton  was  less  antagonistic  to  his  taste ;  she  was  a 
homely,  gentle  woman,  rather  quiet  and  reserved,  like 
her  daughter  Silence. 

Ladv   Mary's  godson,  Vere,  was  born  at  Kelmscott 
Rectory   only   a    few   weeks   before    Sir   Martin    Boyle 


Joan  Refuses  to  Defend  Herself         13 

died.  His  nephew  Rodney  Boyle,  a  barrister  in  good 
practice,  inherited  the  title  and  Roskill  Priory.  Lady 
Mary  wasted  no  time  over  her  flitting.  Her  brother, 
who  was  devoted  to  her,  had  offered  her  a  charming 
house  which  was  almost  at  the  gate  of  Brantwood 
Abbey. 

"  You  will  come  back  to  us,  Mary?"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  her  with  wistful  affection ;  her  widow's  dress  and 
sadness  seemed  to  invest  her  with  a  strange  new  dignity. 
"  Hildegarde  and  I  will  watch  over  you,  and  Dorothy 
and  the  boys  will  cheer  you  up." 

"  I  know  how  good  you  and  Hilda  will  be  to  me," 
returned  the  widow  gently.  "  Thank  you,  George,  I 
have  always  liked  Morningside,  and  if  you  have  no 
other  tenant  it  will  suit  me  perfectly,  and  I  shall  live 
and  die  among  my  own  people " ;  and  Lady  Mary's 
voice  was  so  full  of  pathos  that  the  Earl  walked  sud- 
denly to  the  window.  He  was  a  kind-hearted  man, 
and  hated  to  see  people  in  trouble.  It  was  such  infernal 
luck,  he  muttered  to  himself,  that  poor  Martin  should 
be  cut  off  in  his  prime — a  strong  man  too ! 

Lady  Mary  mourned  her  husband  long  and  sin- 
cerely, but  she  was  by  no  means  a  broken-hearted  widow. 
Her  married  life  had  been  tranquil  and  even  happy,  far 
more  so  than  she  had  dared  to  expect.  Her  husband 
had  adored  her,  and  she  had  given  him  plenty  of  wifely 
affection ;  but  only  her  brother  and  Lady  Merriton. 
and  she  herself,  knew  that  he  was  not  the  man  she 
ought  to  have  married.  But,  except  to  her,  this  was 
ancient  history  and  had  long  been  forgotten.  But  Lady 
Mary,  as  she  yielded  to  Sir  Martin's  tempestuous  woo- 
ing, strove  vainly  to  make  him  understand  that  the  best 
part  of  her  affection  had  been  buried  in  Maurice 
Annersley's   grave. 

Many  women  have  sad  chapters  in  their  young  life 
— they  have  met.  passed,  and  then  lost  their  rightful 
mate — but  not  nil  women  are  so  tenacious  in  their 
affections  and  memories  as  Lady  Mary.     She  had  never 


14  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

forgotten  the  lover  of  her  youth — she  never  would  for- 
get— but  the  pride  of  caste,  the  Merriton  sense  of  dignity, 
the  habits  of  filial  obedience  had  nerved  her  to  sacrifice 
her  own  and   Maurice's  happiness. 

My  parents  and  George  will  not  hear  of  my  marry- 
ing you,"  she  said  to  him.  "  But  I  never,  never  can 
forget  you,  Maurice."  And  he  had  bowed  his  head 
to  her  decision  and  left  her. 

The  Merritons  had  their  pride,  but  Maurice  Anners- 
ley had  his  too ;  if  Lady  Mary  was  ashamed  of  his 
poverty  and  humble  parentage,  he  was  far  too  proud  to 
plead  with  her.  "  It  was  the  desire  of  the  moth  for 
the  star !  What  business  had  I,  a  poor  curate,"  he 
told  himself  bitterly,  "  with  no  hope  of  preferment,  to 
fall  in  love  with  an  Earl's  daughter!  And  yet — yet 
we  loved  each  other,  and  by  all  human  and  divine  laws 
she  is  mine." 

Maurice  Annersley  was  a  good  man,  but  he  bore 
his  trouble  badly;  his  unhappiness  and  restlessness  made 
him  reckless  of  consequences,  he  overworked,  took  cold 
— there  was  pulmonary  disease  in  the  Annersley  family — 
and  before  two  years  had  elapsed  since  Lady  Mary 
had  shut  the  gates  of  Brantwodd  Abbey  behind  him, 
Maurice  lay  in  his  grave.  "  Where  the  weary  are  at 
rest "  was  the  epitaph  he  himself  chose  to  put  over  it. 
Lady  Mary  had  been  very  loyal  to  her  husband  and  had 
kept  nothing  from  him ;  but  with  all  his  sympathy  Sir 
Martin  had  been  a  little  dense. 

"  Poor  fellow — poor  fellow  !  "  he  muttered.  "  But 
never  mind,  my  darling,  it  is  better  so;  they  would 
never  have  let  you  marry  him." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not ;  George  was  very  angry,  I 
remember."  But  Lady  Mary  had  shivered  as  she  said 
this;  for  she  had  her  moments  of  remorse — in  the  quiet 
dawns  when  day  was  breaking,  or  when  the  breadths 
of  evening  sky  were  flooded  with  the  dying  sunsets. 

What  if  she  had  been  faithful  to  him  and  her  love? 
They  might  have  waited  for  each  other  for  years.  What 


Joan  Refuses  to  Defend  Herself        15 

did  it  matter  if  the  bloom  and  glory  of  their  youth  had 
faded,  if  the  end  crowned  all !  The  aftermath  may 
not  be  as  seductive  and  satisfying  as  the  early  gleaning, 
but  it  may  have  a  manna-like  sweetness  to  a  hungry 
heart.  If  she  had  only  kept  faith  with  Maurice — ah! 
there  lay  the  sting  and  the  doubt — perhaps  then  Merriton 
might  have  believed  in  their  sincerity,  and  rewarded  their 
long  patience,  and  consented  to  use  his  interest  on 
Maurice's  behalf!  A  rich  living  might  have  been  found 
for  him.  But  at  this  point  Lady  Mary  would  cover 
her  face  with  her  hands.  Where  had  her  thoughts 
carried  her?  Shame  on  her!  was  not  the  dead  beautiful 
face  hidden  for  ever  from  her  sight,  and  was  she  not 
Martin's  wife ! 

But  as  she  sat  there  in  the  lonely  room,  the  old 
haunting  memories  came  thick  and  fast.  Then  a  sort 
of  inspiration  came  to  her.  Her  talk  with  Joan  was 
not  yet  finished.  She  had  that  to  say  which  would  give 
them  both  pain.  What  if  she  were  to  soften  Joan's 
indignation  and  excite  her  sympathy  by  telling  her 
about  Maurice?  Joan  cared  for  Craig — she  was  certain 
of  that,  in  spite  of  the  girl's  angry  silence — it  would  be 
well  for  her  to  know  that  another  woman  had  loved 
and  suffered  and  sacrificed  herself  to  a  sense  of  duty. 
"  Joan  is  perverse,  and  at  times  difficult,  but  she  has 
a  noble  nature."  And  when  she  had  arrived  at  this 
conclusion  Lady  Mary  stepped  through  the  low  window 
and  sought  to  regain  her  calmness  amongst  her  birds 
and  flowers. 


II 

LADY  MARY'S  REQUEST 

Wondrous  is  the  strength  of  cheerfulness,  altogether  past 
calculation  its  powers  of  endurance.  Efforts,  to  be  permanently 
useful,  must  be  uniformly  joyous — a  spirit  of  all  sunshine,  grace- 
ful from  all  gladness,  beautiful  because  bright. — T.  Carlyle. 

A  cheerful  friend  is  like  a  sunny  day,  which  sheds  its  bright- 
ness on  all  around ;  and  most  of  us  can,  if  we  choose,  make  of 
this  world  either  a  palace  or  a  prison. — Sir.  J.  Lubbock. 

Joan  had  now  lived  seven  years  beneath  Lady  Mary's 
roof.  She  was  sixteen  when  her  mother  died,  and  she 
was  three-and-twenty  now.  Not  that  Joan  looked  her 
age ;  she  was  one  of  those  fortunate  people  whose  youth- 
ful vivacity  and  superabundance  of  life  make  them 
appear  younger  than  they  really  are.  Lady  Dorothy, 
who  was  two  years  her  junior,  looked  mature  beside 
her.  "  No  one  would  take  you  for  more  than  eighteen, 
Joan,"  Lady  Mary  would  say  sometimes,  in  a  tone  of 
fond  rebuke,  when  the  girl's  high  spirits  and  sense  of 
humour  had  carried  her  too  far;  but  in  her  heart  she 
loved  Joan's  joyous  temperament  and  gaite  dc  cceur. 

Lady  Mary  was  a  widow  then,  and  had  not  long 
settled  into  her  new  home ;  but,  in  spite  of  Dorothy  and 
the  boys,  she  had  many  lonely  hours,  when  Cocker  and 
her  books  were  her  only  companions. 

There  was  no  question  where  Joan's  future  home 
would  be.  Kelmscott  Rectory  was  large,  and  there  was 
abundance  of  loaves  and  fishes,  and  Heath  Leigh  was 
more  than  willing  to  do  his  duty  by  his  young  sister. 

"We  had  better  do  up  the  Porch  Room  for  loan." 
he  said  to  his  wife  the  night  aftei  his  mother's  funeral. 
He  had  fully  intended  to  bring  Joan  back  with  him ; 
but  Lady  Mary,  in  the  kindness  of  her  heart,  begged 
that  the  child  might  come  to  her  for  a  little  visit.     "  A 

16 


Lady  Mary's  Request  17 

change  will  do  her  good,"  she  wrote ;  and  Joan  had 
eageriy  begged  her  brother's  permission  to  accept  the 
invitation. 

When  Heath  brought  out  the  suggestion  about  the 
Porch  Room,  Silence  laid  down  her  work  and  regarded 
him  with  reproachful  eyes. 

"  I  always  intended  that  room  for  Wanda,  when  she 
is  old  enough  to  sleep  alone."  But  the  Rector,  who  was 
certainly  master  in  his  own  house,  pooh-poohed  this. 

"  You  are  previous,  love ;  Wanda  is  still  in  the 
nursery.  Joan  will  probably  occupy  the  room  for  years 
before  our  little  girl  will  need  it — who  knows  where 
we  shall  be  by  that  time  ?  "  But,  though  Silence  sub 
mitted  as  usual  to  her  husband's  will,  he  was  not  sure 
in  his  heart  that  Joan's  arrival  as  an  inmate  of  the 
Rectory  was  entirely  welcome  to  her. 

More  than  once  he  had  had  an  uneasy  conviction  that 
she  and  Joan  did  not  exactly  hit  it  off. 

Silence  was  a  little  tenacious  in  her  attachment  to 
her  belongings.  She  had  a  large  heart,  and  as  a  wife 
and  mother  she  was  simply  perfect ;  but  she  narrowed 
her  sympathies  too  much,  and  she  was  by  no  means 
devoid  o-f  jealousy. 

Young  as  she  was,  Joan  had  already  shown  a  dis- 
position to  monopolise  her  brother,  and  to  make  claims 
on  his  time  in  rather  an  audacious  manner.  She  was 
injudicious  and  tactless  too  in  the  nursery,  and  set  her 
sister-in-law's  wise  rules  at  defiance ;  it  was  often 
necessary  to  read  the  riot  act  there.  Silence  would 
complain  to  her  husband  rather  bitterly  that  the  children 
were  never  so  noisy  and  ill-behaved  as  when  Joan  was 
staying  at  the  Rectory. 

"  Wanda  actually  put  out  her  tongue  at  nurse,"  she 
continued  in  a  grieved  tone ;  but  the  Rector  only  threw 
back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"Wanda  is  only  a  baby,"  he  observed:  for  he  was 
a  most  indulgent  and  loving  father.  Nevertheless,  he 
wondered  how   it   would  be   when   Joan   came  to  live 

2 


18  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

with  them.  Silence  was  a  dear  woman,  but  she  had 
her  limitations,  and  Joan  could  be  perverse  and  difficult 
— if  they  failed  to  understand  each  other  there  would 
be  ructions,  and  then  his  peace  would  be  gone ! 

Happily  for  all  their  sakes,  these  fears  were  not 
to  be  realised.  The  Porch  Room  had  been  repapered, 
and  Silence  and  nurse  were  busy  sewing  at  the  new 
cretonne  curtains  and  bed  furniture — in  a  few  days  all 
would  be  ready.  And  then  came  an  urgent  letter  from 
Lady  Mary,  begging  the  Rector  to  come  to  her,  as  she 
had  a  very  important  proposition  to  lay  before  him. 
"If  you  could  spare  me  a  few  hours,  I  should  be  deeply 
grateful,  and  we  could  talk  things  over  at  our  leisure," 
she  wrote.  Then,  as  Heath  read  the  letter,  a  glimmer 
of  the  truth  crossed  his  mind — it  was  something  con- 
nected with  Joan — but  he  said  nothing  of  this  surmise 
to  Silence. 

So,  when  Lady  Mary  unfolded  her  scheme,  he  lis- 
tened to  her  with  grave  attention. 

Lady  Mary  was  lonely.  The  boys  would  be  leaving 
home  soon,  and  Dorothy,  was  occupied  with  her  govern- 
ess and  masters.  "  Besides,  her  mother  has  the  first 
claim  on  her,"  she  finished  with  a  sigh. 

"  Joan  is  very  young,  but  from  a  child  I  have  been 
fond  of  her,"  she  continued  presently,  "  and  I  think  she 
is  much  attracted  to  me." 

"  I   am   quite   sure  of  that.   Lady   Mary." 

"  She  misses  her  mother  sadly,  Heath,  and  I  think  it 
comforts  her  a  little  to  be  with  me.  T — I  am  very  fond 
of  young  people,  and  I  think  I  understand  them.  Joan 
has  rather  a  complex  nature ;  I  am  not  sure — if  you 
will  pardon  my  frankness — that  she  and  Mrs.  Leigh 
get  on  well  together." 

"  T  am  afraid  they  don't  quite  hit  it  off,"  returned 
the  "Rector  ruefully. 

"  No !  one  can  see  that.  Joan  can  be  difficult  at 
times,  and  I  fear  Mrs.  Leigh  might  find  her  trying. 
The  children  are   so  young  that  Joan  would  have  no 


Lady  Mary's  Request  19 

companion.  Now,  may  1  tell  you  my  plan  ?  "  And  as 
Heath  bowed  his  head,  Lady  Alary,  with  an  eagerness 
she  could  not  hide,  made  known  her  scheme.  Might 
she  keep  Joan,  not  for  a  visit,  but  permanently?  She 
should  be  her  adopted  child.  She  would  do  everything 
in  her  power  to   make  her  happy. 

"  Joan  loves  the  country,"  she  went  on ;  "  she  will 
be  as  happy  as  a  bird  roaming  about  the  Brantwood 
woods.  It  would  really  be  an  advantage  to  her,  for 
she  could  share  Dorothy's  governess,  and  the  masters 
who  come  to  the  Abbey  could  give  her  lessons.  She 
and  Dorothy  would  study  and  practise  together,  and, 
as  Lady  Merriton  says,  it  will  be  a  mutual  benefit. 
I  do  not  think  Joan's  life  will  be  dull,  and  she  shall 
spend  her  holidays  with  you  if  you  wish."  Then,  as 
Lady  Mary  looked  wistfully  at  him,  Heath  was  quite 
ready  with  his  answer.  It  had  not  taken  him  long  to 
weigh  the  pros  and  cons  of  Lady  Mary's  plan.  Only 
there  was  one  question  he  must  ask  first. 

"  Do  you  think  Joan  is  likely  to  agree  to  this,  Lady 
Mary?     Shall  we  have  the  child  in  and  ask  her?" 

"  Yes,  by  all  means ;  but  I  think  it  would  be  better 
for  you  to  speak  to  her  alone."  And  Lady  Mary  would 
have  risen  from  her  seat,  but  Heath  prevented  her. 

"  Then  I  will  go  to  her;  I  know  where  to  find  her." 
But  Heath  was  back  in  a  surprisingly  short  time.  He 
looked  relieved,  and  yet  there  was  a  deprecating,  half- 
vexed  expression  on  his  face.  He  loved  his  young 
sister  dearly,  and  it  was  only  natural  that  he  should 
feel  secretly  hurt  that  Joan  should  prefer  to  stay  at 
Morningside. 

"  You  are  right,  Lady  Mary — Joan  thinks  she  will 
be  happier  here  than  at  Kelmscott.  She  has  taken 
rather  a  dislike  to  the  place,  because  she  says  it  is 
ugly  and  smoky."  It  was  so  like  Joan  to  state  her 
opinions  and  her  likes  and  dislikes  without  considering 
other  people's  feelings.  And  Heath  remembered  that 
Silence   had  never  found   fault   with   her  environment. 


20  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  She  wants  nothing  but  me  and  the  children — bless 
her !  "   he   said   to   himself. 

"  If  Joan  is  willing,"  he  continued,  "  I  am  quite 
ready  to  accept  your  generous  offer,  Lady  Mary ;  but 
it  must  be  on  one  condition,  that  you  incur  no  expense 
on  Joan's  behalf.  I  am  not  speaking  of  her  mainten- 
ance " — as  Lady  Mary  flushed  up  at  this — "  but  with 
regard  to  her  education  and  clothes  I  must  certainly 
insist  on  defraying  all  expenses.  Joan  shall  have  a 
proper  allowance — I  will  ask  you  to  advise  me  on  that 
point."'  Then,  as  Lady  Mary  looked  still  dubious,  "  My 
dear  lady,  before  long  my  wife  and  I  will  be  rich 
people";  for  Joshua  Wootton's  health  was  just  then 
causing  his  wife  and  daughter  the  deepest  anxiety. 
"  Joan  is  my  only  sister ;  I  look  upon  her  as  a  sacred 
charge."  And  then  Lady  Mary,  in  spite  of  her  dis- 
appointment, did  not  venture  to  say  more.  She  had 
gained  her  wish,  and  she  was  not  to  be  deprived  of  her 
girlish  companion,  but  she  would  have  dearly  loved  to 
provide  for  all  Joan's  wants.  "  She  would  have  seemed 
more  like  my  own  child,"  she  said  to  herself. 

Joan  rejoiced  openly  when  Heath  told  her  that  it 
should  be  as  she  and  Lady  Mary  wished  ;  nevertheless, 
her  conscience  felt  an  unaccustomed  prick  when  she 
bade    her    brother    good-bye    the    next    day. 

"You  are  not  vexed  with  me,  Heath?"  she  said, 
fingering  his  button-hole  restlessly.  "  Of  course  I  like 
to  be  with  you;  but  you  and  Silence  have  the  children, 
and  Lady  Mary  has  no  one.  And  then — then,"  in 
rather  a  choked  voice,  "  I  always  feel  that  Silence  does 
not  want  me."  And  the  obvious  truth  of  this  remark 
made   Heath    answer   her   rather   sharply. 

"  You  need  not  have  said  that,  Joan ;  you  are  old 
enough  now  to  cure  yourself  of  your  awkward  hnbit  of 
treading  on  people's  corns.  A  little  more  consideration 
for  people's  feelings,  my  dear  child !  "  Then,  as  Joan 
stared  at  him,  blankly,  alarmed  bv  this  sternness,  he 
kissed  her  with  more  than  his  usual  affection.     "  There. 


Lady  Mary's  Request  21 

there,  I  am  not  really  vexed,  my  girlie !  But  I  should 
like  to  have  you  with  me  every  Christmas."  And  Joan, 
who  was  a  little  subdued  by  her  brother's  unusual  ten- 
derness, promised  him  again  and  again  that  nothing 
should  prevent  her  from  coming  to  the  Rectory — unless 
she  broke  her  leg  or  Lady  Mary  were  ill. 

Lady  Mary's  plan  worked  excellently,  and  all  these 
years  nothing  had  disturbed  the  harmony  between 
Morningside   and    Brantwood   Abbey. 

Joan  and  Lady  Dorothy  were  inseparable ;  they 
studied,  practised,  and  sketched  together  under  the  eye 
of  the  excellent  finishing  governess,  whom  Lady  Mcrriton 
considered  a  treasure.  As  soon  as  they  were  old 
enough  to  reap  the  benefit  of  the  change,  they  went  under 
Miss  Cresswell's  wing  to  Paris,  and  the  following  year 
to  Dresden,  when  Lady  Merriton  decided  to  pass  the 
winter  at  Rome  and  Florence.  Lady  Mary  offered  to 
accompany  them ;  these  long  absences  from  Joan  told 
her  the  girl  had  become  indispensable  to  her  happiness. 
Joan's  fun  and  lively  sense  of  humour,  her  snatches 
of  song,  her  merry  laugh,  made  the  home  of  her  widow- 
hood brighter.  "  I  shall  never  be  sufficiently  grateful 
to  you  for  letting  me  have  the  child,"  she  said  one  day 
to  Heath  with  tears  in  her  eyes ;  "  she  is  like  a  sunbeam 
in  the  house."  But  though  he  heard  this  with  much 
satisfaction,  Heath  could  not  help  feeling  that  the 
gratitude  was  not  all  on  Lady  Mary's  side.  Joan's  bi- 
annual visits  to  the  Rectory,  short  as  they  were,  proved 
to  him  that  ?s  an  inmate  she  would  be  a  disturbing 
element    in    his    household. 

"  When  two  women  want  to  monopolise  a  man,  and 
are  inclined  to  stand  on  their  rights,  the  situation  is 
likely  to  be  strained,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  smoked 
his  evening  pipe  in  the  solitude  of  his  study.  Silence 
did  not  love  the  odour  of  tobacco,  and  she  rarely  kept 
him  company  on  these  occasions.  My  Lady  Nicotine 
was  her  most  formidable  rival.  "  Joan  is  a  dear  child, 
but   she   is   terribly  tactless   sometimes ;   there   was   de- 


22  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

cided  friction  between  her  and  Silence  last  night — 
only  I  thought  it  better  not  to  take  any  notice.  I 
thought   they   parted    rather   coldly   this   morning." 

Meanwhile  Joan,  sitting  on  the  rug  at  Lady  Mary's 
feet  in  her  favourite  attitude,  was  giving  her  own  version 
of  her  visit. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  enjoyed  it ;  but  I  am  glad  to  be 
back  at  Morningside.  I  think  Kelmscott  gets  uglier 
and  smokier  every  year.  And  then  Heath  was  so  hor- 
ribly busy,  one  never  was  able  to  get  him  comfortably 
for  a  moment,  even  if  one  bearded  the  lion  in  his  den. 
Silence  was  always  fussing  round,  warming  his  slippers 
and  bringing  him  cups  of  hot  soup  and  tea.  She  cossets 
him  just  as  though  he  were  an  infirm  old  man,  and 
Heath  is  really  as  strong  as  a  horse.  But  she  looked 
so  offended   when   I   told   her   so." 

"I  hope  you  did  not  tell  her  that  she  was  fussy?" 
observed  Lady  Mary.  "  You  are  terribly  outspoken, 
Joan." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  did  say  something  of  the  kind." 
returned  the  girl  truthfully,  "  for  she  marched  out  of 
the  study  in  such  a  stiff  way,  as  though  she  had  just 
swallowed  a  poker.  Then  Heath  jumped  up  and  went 
after  her,  but  she  would  not  come  back.  People  always 
say  that  Silence  is  so  sweet-tempered,"  continued  Joan, 
"  and  that  nothing  really  puts  her  out;  but  I  don't  think 
it  was  sweet-tempered  to  sulk  and  refuse  to  speak  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening.  Even  Heath  could  not  make 
her  talk.  She  said  her  head  ached  and  she  must  be 
quiet." 

Lady  Mary  sighed  and  shook  her  head.  She  knew 
exactly  what  had  happened.  Joan's  lamentable  want 
of  tact,  her  girlish  impertinence,  and  Silence's  dignified 
resentment.  Would  any  devoted  wife  like  to  be  told 
that  she  was  fussing  round  and  coddling  her  husband, 
or  to  have  it  implied  that  her  room  was  preferable  to 
her  company?  Joan  had  forgotten  her  manners,  that 
was   evident,   and   Silence   was   right  to  show   her  dis- 


Lady  Mary's  Request  23 

approval.  But  Lady  Mary  had  not  the  heart  to  scold 
her  favourite  on  the  first  evening  of  her  return. 

Joan,  who  was  complacently  basking  in  the  firelight, 
went  on  in  her  casual  way.  "  I  wonder  why  Silence 
and  I  never  can  get  on  for  long  together.  She  is  such  a 
good  woman,  and  is  so  chockful  of  virtues,  but  somehow 
she  always  riles  me  and  gets  on  my  nerves.  She  is  so 
extremely  limited ;  she  never  seems  to  read  and  widen 
her  mind.  She  will  sit  and  sew  contentedly  for  a  whole 
evening  and  hardly  open  her  lips.  And  there  are  so 
few  things  that  really  interest  her — only  Heath  and  the 
children  and  her  Mothers'  Bible  Class.  And  yet  Heath, 
who  is  so  clever,  never  seems  to  find  any  fault  with  her." 

"  Why  should  he,  my  dear  ?  Silence  is  an  excellent 
wife  and  mother;  I  do  not  know  any  woman  who 
manages  her  household  better."  But  Joan  tossed  her 
head  a  little  contemptuously. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  denying  that — did  I  not  say  just  now 
that  she  was  a  good  woman?  But  what  passes  my 
comprehension  is  this — how  can  Heath,  who  is  really  a 
very  clever,  intellectual  man,  find  a  woman  like  Silence 
congenial  to  him?  "  But,  as  an  interruption  that  moment 
occurred,  Joan's  question   remained   unanswered. 

So  the  years  had  passed,  and  until  the  last  few  weeks 
nothing  more  than  a  passing  cloud  had  marred  Lady 
Mary's  serenity.  To  be  sure,  Joan  was  sometimes  a 
little  heedless.  She  had  a  quick  temper,  though  she 
generally  kept  it  under  control.  Now  and  then  she 
did  foolish  things,  but  she  was  always  very  contrite 
afterwards.  But  surely,  with  all  her  cleverness,  Lady 
Mary  must  have  been  short-sighted  and  dense,  if  the 
idea  never  crossed  her  mind  that  one  of  her  nephews 
might  possibly  fall  in  love  with  Joan — that  idleness 
and  propinquity  might  work  mischief.  There  were 
four  goodlv  sons  at  Brantwood  when  Joan  first  came 
to  live  at  Morningside.  To  be  sure,  they  were  seldom  at 
\hbey.  The  eldest.  Lord  Josselvn,  was  with  his 
regiment   in    Ireland,   and   was   a  gay  young  lieutenant 


24  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

of  Hussars.  Most  of  the  Bastows  had  been  either 
soldiers  or  sailors,  and  Lord  Josselyn's  younger  brothers 
intended  to  follow  his  example.  The  second  son,  Clyde, 
wished  for  a  commission  in  the  Lancers.  The  youngest 
son,  Craig,  who  was  the  cleverest  and  strongest  of  Lord 
Merriton's  sons,  later  on  begged  that  he  might  enter 
the  Royal  Engineers.  Archibald  had  chosen  the  navy. 
But  though  the  Earl  loudly  lamented  that  not  one  of 
his  sons  shared  his  tastes  for  a  country  gentleman's 
life,  or  had  any  desire  to  take  part  in  the  legislation 
of  their  country,  he  was  easily  overruled  by  his  head- 
strong youngsters. 

They  had  the  fighting  instinct  of  the  Bastows,  he 
knew  that  well,  and  but  for  his  lame  leg — the  result  of  a 
boyish  accident — which  never  troubled  him  now,  thank 
goodness,  unless  he  were  over-fatigued,  Lord  Merriton 
might  have  had  it  himself.  "  Well,  well,  I  suppose 
the  lads  must  have  their  way;  they  have  only  one  life 
to  live,  and  they  may  as  well  get  some  pleasure  out  of 
it.  But  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Hildegarde  " — and  here  the 
Earl's  good-natured  face  wore  a  worried  expression — 
"  if  Josselyn   goes   this  pace,   there   will   be — eh — what 

?"    as    Lady    Merriton    drew    herself   up.      But    in 

consideration  for  her  feelings  he  refrained  from  finish- 
ing his  sentence. 


Ill 

IN  THE  ABBEY  WOODS 

Be  honest  with  yourself,  whatever  the  temptation ;  say  noth- 
ing to  others  that  you  do  not  think,  and  play  no  tricks  with  your 
own  mind.  Of  all  the  evil  spirits  abroad  at  this  hour,  in  this 
world,  insincerity  is  the  most  dangerous. — J.  A.  Froude. 

It  was  not  long  after  that  winter  spent  in  Rome  and 
Florence  that  trouble  came  to  Brantwood  Abbey.  The 
third  son,  Archibald,  who  was  in  the  navy,  met  with 
a  severe  accident,  and  was  lying  in  the  hospital  at  Malta. 
The  telegram  which  informed  Lord  Merriton  of  his 
son's  mishap  had  been  so  cautiously  worded  that  neither 
he  nor  his  wife  were  prepared  for  the  sad  intelligence 
which  reached  them  the  next  clay,  that  Archibald  had 
died  without  recovering  consciousness.  It  was  a  great 
and  unexpected  blow  to  the  parents,  and  Lady  Merriton 
took  it  badly.  She  was  a  devoted  mother,  though 
rather  too  ambitious  for  her  children's  worldly  advan- 
tage ;  but  Archie,  with  his  handsome  face  and  high 
spirits,  was  her  special  darling.  Nevertheless,  when 
two  years  later  Clyde,  the  second  son  succumbed  to 
enteric  at  Johannesburg,  she  was  equally  broken-hearted 
and  refused  to  be  comforted. 

"  My  trouble  is  greater  than  I  can  bear,"  she  said  to 
her  husband.  But  the  Earl,  who  was  looking  worn  and 
aged,  could  find  no  word  of  consolation.  Clyde,  who 
had  never  given  his  parents  any  anxiety,  was  lying  in 
his  African  grave ;  and  Josselyn,  his  heir,  cared  for 
nothing  but  his  own  pleasure ;  and  as  he  had  developed 
a  passion  for  racing,  and  from  time  to  time  stories  of 
his  dissipated  habits  and  gambling  debts  reached  his 
father's  ears,  there  was  some  reason  for  the  Earl's  bitter 
complaint  "  that  that  young  fool  of  a  Josselyn  would 
ruin   them   all." 

25 


26  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  He  has  got  into  a  bad  set,"  Lady  Merriton  would 
reply  in  a  dejected  voice;  "Arthur  was  such  a  dear 
good  boy  before  he  left  home.  If  he  would  only  marry 
and  settle  down.  Lady  Marjorie  Colvin  would  be  just 
the  wife  for  him.  She  is  good-looking  and  sensible, 
and  has  a  tolerable  fortune  of  her  own."  But  though 
Lord  Merriton  agreed  with  her,  it  was  evident  that  he 
was  not  sanguine  on  the  subject.  Josselyn  was  not 
disposed  for  matrimony;  he  preferred  his  liberty.  The 
girls  he  met  in  society  were  not  to  his  taste.  He  would 
have  nothing  to  say  to  Lady  Marjorie,  or  even  to  her 
cousin  Lady  Cicely,  who  was  still  more  eligible. 

''  You  may  trot  them  out  as  much  as  you  like,  my 
lady,"  he  said  one  day,  "  but  I  give  you  my  word  that 
I  am  not  going  to  make  love  to  any  of  them.  A  young 
fellow  likes  to  have  his  fling.  In  a  few  years'  time 
I  will  think  about  it." 

By  and  by  there  were  graver  anxieties.  Lord 
Josselyn's  health  was  seriously  impaired,  and  his  own 
recklessness  and  imprudence  were  to  blame  for  it.  He 
would  have  to  resign  his  commission,  as  he  could  no 
longer  fulfil  his  duties. 

It  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  winter  in  Egypt. 
One  specialist,  who  detected  signs  of  lung  trouble, 
strongly  advocated  the  Black  Forest  and  open-air 
treatment;  but  Lord  Josselyn  lent  a  deaf  ear  to  him. 

He  would  winter  at  Cairo;  some  of  his  friends  were 

going,   and   they  would  have  a  good  time.      But  when 

Merriton   and   her  daughter   offered   to  join   him 

there,  his  response  was  so  discouraging  that  they  dared 

not  press  it. 

"  He  does  not  want  us,  mother,"  sighed  Lady 
Dorothy.  "  Arthur  is  so  changed ;  he  never  seems  to 
care  for  anv  one  but  himself  now.  And  he  looks  so 
dreadfully  ill  too,  though  he  will  not  allow  us  to  say 
so."  And  then  again  the  Countess  had  declared  that  no 
mother  had  ever  been  more  troubled. 

Lord  Josselyn's  health  improved  so  much  after  his 


In  the  Abbey  Woods  27 

winter  in  Egypt  that  his  doctors  spoke  more  hopefully 
of  their  patient.  If  he  would  spend  his  winters  in  a 
warmer  climate — Egypt,  Algiers,  or  even  the  Riviera — 
and  lead  a  quiet  life,  free  from  excitement,  he  might 
live  for  a  good  many  years  yet ;  the  threatening 
symptoms  might  even  disappear  altogether.  "  But  " — 
here  the  physician  looked  at  him  almost  sternly — "  you 
must  not  play  with  your  health,  Lord  Josselyn,  and 
you  must  carry  out  my  orders,  or  I  will  not  answer  for 
the  consequences."  But  the  young  man  only  shrugged 
his    shoulders. 

"  What  did  Sir  Joseph  say  to  you,  Josselyn?  "  asked 
Craig,   who  was   waiting  for  his  brother  outside. 

"  Oh,  he  told  me  to  buck  up  and  that  sort  of  thing. 
And  he  gave  me  no  end  of  advice :  no  late  hours  or 
excitement,  no  crowded  rooms,  fresh  air  and  plenty  of 
exercise.  And  he  talked  a  lot  of  rot — they  all  do,  you 
know.  But  a  short  life  and  a  merry  one,  that  is  my 
creed.  What's  the  good  of  leading  a  humdrum  existence 
like  that?  I  would  rather  you  wrapped  me  up  in  my 
old  stable  jacket — you  know  what  I  mean,  old  fellow !  " 
But  Craig's  reply  to  this  was  straight  and  uncom- 
promising, and  perhaps  hardly  befitting  a  younger 
brother. 

"  I  know  you  have  always  played  the  giddy  goat, 
Josselyn ;  but  I  strongly  advise  you,  for  your  own  sake, 
not  to  play  the  fool  now.  Sir  Joseph  is  a  clever  man — 
he  is  tiptop  of  his  profession.  In  your  place  I  should 
follow  his  advice."  But  Josselyn  only  turned  on  his  heel 
with   an  impatient  exclamation. 

"  I  am  going  to  my  club  to  have  luncheon.  We  shall 
probably  play  bridge  afterwards,  so  I  suppose  you 
won't  come,"  with  a  half-concealed  sneer  which  brought 
the  blood  to  Craig's  face.  But  he  returned  quietly  that 
he  already  had  an  engagement.  Never  were  there  two 
brothers  more  dissimilar.  Craig  and  Archibald  had 
been  chums,  Clyde  too  had  always  been  in  touch  with 
them,  but  Josselyn  was  not  on   their  plane. 


28  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Craig  had  attained  his  wish  and  was  now  in  the 
Royal  Engineers.  At  the  present  moment  he  was 
stationed  at  Aldershot,  but  it  was  understood  that  his 
battery  was  intended  for  India.  This  prospect  was 
delightful  to  him,  and  there  was  only  one  drawback 
to  his  satisfaction,  and  that  was  that  he  would  have  to 
leave  Joan.  Joan,  his  old  playfellow,  who  was  the  joy 
and  torment  of  his  life !  Oh,  short-sighted  Lady  Mary, 
what  was  the  use  of  locking  the  stable  door  when  the 
steed  was  stolen !  When  Craig  Bastow  set  his  heart 
on  anything  he  was  likely  to  persevere  in  his  efforts 
until   he   attained    it. 

When  Lady  Mary  in  her  kind  way  had  advised  Joan 
to  try  the  restorative  effect  of  the  fresh  morning  air, 
the  girl  had  listlessly  picked  up  her  garden-hat  from 
the  hall  table,  but  she  hesitated  to  whistle  for  her  usual 
walking  companion.  Rascal's  feelings  would  be  hurt, 
for  he  never  allowed  his  mistress  to  stir  without  him  ; 
but  his  restlessness  and  exuberance  of  life  would  jar 
on  her  present  mood.  Rascal  was  young  and  undis- 
ciplined, and  the  Brantwood  copses  were  his  happy 
hunting-grounds.  Here  he  could  bark  himself  hoarse 
at  rabbit-holes,  down  which  some  white  little  furry  tail 
had  just  whisked,  or  utter  his  war-whoop  of  defiant  joy 
at  the  sight  of  a  hedgehog  creeping  out  of  a  ditch. 

Joan  had  laughed  until  the  tears  had  run  down  her 
cheeks  at  the  little  animal's  mystification  when  the  mov- 
ing object  became  a  motionless  prickly  ball  in  the  grass. 
It  was  so  droll  to  see  the  small  terrier  balancing  himself 
on  three  legs  with  one  paw  raised  as  though  to  in- 
vestigate the  perplexing  thing,  and  yet  not  venturing  to 
touch  it.  When  his  prolonged  barks  had  no  effect. 
Rascal  had  found  it  necessary  to  relieve  his  feelings  by 
breathless  rushes  round  the  prickly  object  in  ever  widen- 
ing circles,  until  sheer  fatigue  obliged  him  to  desist. 
Strange  to  say,  whenever  thev  encountered  a  hedge- 
hog in  their  walks,  Rascal  always  went  through  this 
pretty  pantomime,  much  to  his  own  and  Joan's  delight. 

Rascal  was  a  great  pet  with  his  mistress.     He  had 


In  the  Abbey  Woods  29 

been  only  a  young  puppy  when  Craig  brought  him  to 
her. 

"  He  is  the  finest  of  Di's  litter,"  he  had  said  to  her, 
"  so  I  begged  him  from  father ;  and  you  shall  have  him 
as  soon  as  he  is  properly  trained." 

Rascal  was  a  very  small  fox  terrier ;  his  parents, 
Joe  and  Diana,  were  pedigree  dogs,  and  the  Earl  was 
very  proud  of  them. 

Rascal  was  certainly  a  handsome  little  animal.  His 
coat  was  like  white  satin,  it  was  so  smooth  and  glossy ; 
and  his  nose  was  like  polished  ebony.  He  was  as 
playful  as  a  kitten;  but  he  had  plenty  of  pluck  and 
cleverness,  and  it  was  Craig's  favourite  amusement  to 
teach  him  new  tricks. 

If  Joan  thought  she  could  circumvent  Rascal  she 
had  reckoned  without  her  host ;  for  before  she  had 
reached  the  garden  gate  Rascal  was  flying  over  the 
lawn,  and  the  next  moment  was  leaping  up  against  her 
with   short   exultant  barks. 

"  Oh,  no.  I  don't  want  you,"  she  observed  in  a 
worried  tone.  Then  Rascal's  tail  drooped  and  his  small 
white  body  quivered  with  disappointment.  He  looked 
so  abject  and  pitiful  that  Joan  relented.  "  Well,  you 
may  come,  then,"  she  sighed.  And  then,  as  she  opened 
the  gate,  he  tore  down  the  road  like  a  mad  thing. 

Joan  followed  him  slowly.  She  was  sore  and  un- 
happv  and  utterly  out  of  harmony  with  the  loveliness 
of  her  environment  and  the  spring  morning.  And  yet 
few  prospects  were  fairer  than  that  which  met  Joan's 
eyes  as  she  left  the  gate  of  Morningside.  To  the  left 
was  the  entrance  to  Brantwood  Abbey.  Some  level 
meadows  led  to  the  ruins  of  the  old  monastery ;  and 
near  a  wide  piece  of  water,  partially  covered  with  water- 
lilies,  was  the  Abbey  itself.  To  the  right  was  a 
picturesque  cottage  and  the  mill  and  a  small  bridge, 
bevond  which  lay  the  sunny  water  meadow,  where  the 
Earl's  beautiful  Alderney  cows  were  feeding,  and  in 
the  distance  a  background  of  dark  firs. 

On  any  other  occasion  Joan  would  have  taken  her 


30  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

usual  short  cut  to  the  Brantwood  woods,  but  she  had 
her  own  reasons  for  going  farther  afield.  For  once 
she  would  follow  the  windings  of  the  shady  road  and 
enter  the  wood  by  a  small  gate  almost  hidden  in  the 
hedge.  Here  the  wood  was  thicker  and  the  solitude 
less  likely  to  be  invaded;  and  there  was  a  certain  little 
sunny  glade  she  had  once  discovered,  where  there  was 
a  fallen  tree  and  a  bed  of  forget-me-nots  near  it. 

How  Joan  loved  those  woods !  But  she  loved  still 
more  the  blue-blackness  of  the  fir  woods  that  clothed 
Sudlow  Hill.  Here  she  would  wander  for  hours,  either 
alone  or  with  a  chosen  companion. 

Joan  was  not  long  in  reaching  her  chosen  retreat. 
The  gate  was  a  little  difficult  to  unfasten,  and  the 
brambles  caught  her  as  she  passed  through — a  jagged 
rent  in  her  skirt  was  the  result ;  but  then  trifles  did 
not  vex  her,  and  she  made  her  way  through  the  dark 
narrow  woodland  paths  until  she  found  the  opening. 
Yes,  there  it  was  in  its  sunny  loveliness,  the  old  moss- 
grown  trunk  and  the  forget-me-nots  carpeting  the  ground 
beside  it.  Here  Rascal  would  roll  with  the  joy  of  a 
Sybarite,  till  his  mistress  called  him  to  order  rather 
sternly. 

How  warm  and  pleasant  the  sunshine  was !  Joan 
took  off  her  shady  hat  that  the  sweet,  balmy  breeze 
might  blow  round  her.  Oh.  why  was  the  world  so 
lovely  and  she,  Joan,  so  utterly,  intolerably  miserable! 
What  had  she  done  that  all  this  trouble  should  come 
to  her !  "  Am  I  to  blame  because  I  have  found  favour 
in  your  nephew's  eyes?"  she  had  said  to  Lady  Mary 
in  an  injured  tone. 

Perhaps  in  her  secret  thoughts  Lady  Mary  wondered 
a  little  at  Craig's  infatuation.  Some  little  bird  of 
the  air  had  carried  the  first  hint  of  suspicion  to  Lady 
Merriton's  ear,  and  she  had  sent  for  her  sister-in-law 
to  come  to  her. 

"  Mary,"  she  had  said  in  a  tragical  voice,  "  T  am  so 
unhappy  and  worried.  Mrs.  Flavel  has  been  talking  to 
me.      She   says  every   one   is   noticing  that   Craig  and 


In  the  Abbey  Woods  31 

Joan  are  always  together,  that  she  is  sure  that  it  is  not 
a  mere  flirtation  and  that  he  really  admires  her.  And 
you  and  I  know  that  such  a  thing  is  out  of  the  question 
— especially  now."  But  though  Lady  Merriton  shrank 
from  putting  her  meaning  more  clearly  into  words,  her 
hearer  well  understood  that,  owing  to  Josselyn's  increas- 
ing ill-health,  Craig's  position  was  likely  to  be  changed, 
and  that  his  marriage  would  be  a  matter  of  importance. 

It  was  in  this  way  the  bomb  was  sprung  upon  Lady 
Mary.  Nevertheless,  as  she  walked  slowly  back  from 
the  Abbey,  in  sore  perplexity  of  spirit,  her  first  feeling 
was  one  of  wonder. 

Joan  was  not  a  pretty  girl;  indeed,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  her  beautiful  hair  and  her  fine  clear  complexion, 
she  might  almost  have  been  called  plain.  But  her 
hair  was  glorious,  though  no  one  could  exactly  define 
its  colour.  It  was  certainly  not  golden,  and  it  was 
too  red  to  be  auburn.  It  was  probably  a  mingling  of 
all  three,  only  the  red  predominated ;  and  it  was  very 
thick  and   long. 

One  evening  Joan,  who  was  in  a  frolicsome  mood,  had 
taken  out  her  hairpins,  and  the  great  ruddy  mass  came 
tumbling  over  her  white  shoulders.  "  I  never  saw  such 
a  sight,"  Lady  Mary  had  said  afterwards  to  her  sister- 
in-law.  "  Really,  the  child  looked  quite  beautiful  for 
once  in  her  life."  But  the  Countess  had  only  smiled  a 
little  incredulously.  She  did  not  admire  Joan's  style 
though  she  allowed  that  her  figure  was  good  and  that 
she  held  herself  well. 

Joan's  eyes  were  bright  and  expressive,  though  they 
were  somewhat  small.  They  were  hazel,  but  in  some 
lights  they  looked  almost  green.  Archie,  who  loved  to 
tease  her,  used  to  call  her  Becky  Sharp. 

"  Becky  had  green  eyes,"  he  would  say.  But  Joan 
always  treated  these  remarks  with  contemptuous  silence. 
She  was  not  vain,  though  now  and  then  the  wish  crossed 
her  that  she  could  be  as  pretty  as  some  of  the  girls 
who  came  to  the  Abbey.  Like  Lady  Marjorie  Colvin 
or   Lady    Cicely   O'Brien,    for   example.      Lady    Cicely 


32  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

especially  was  the  object  of  her  admiration.  She  was 
clark-haired  and  grey-eyed,  and  Joan  always  maintained 
that  she  was  far  handsomer  than  her  cousin. 

As  Joan  recalled  her  conversation  with  Lady  Mary 
that  morning,  an  uneasy  conviction  began  to  assail  her. 
Was  she  really  so  free   from  blame  after  all? 

"  I  think  few  girls  would  have  behaved  so  well  under 
the  circumstances,"  she  had  said  proudly,  when  Lady 
Mary's  reproachful  words  had  goaded  her  to  defend 
herself;  but  would  her  conscience  acquit  her  so  entirely? 
She  had  chosen  to  ignore  the  truth,  but  had  she  really 
been  blind   to  the  change   in   Craig's  manner? 

She  had  always  been  on  excellent  terms  with  Clyde, 
Archibald,  and  Craig  Bastow,  but  she  had  an  instinctive 
dislike  for  Lord  Josselyn's  society.  Not  that  he  ever 
took  much  notice  of  Joan.  She  was  just  Aunt  Mary's 
protege,  who  did  not  interest  him  in  the  least.  "  That 
red-headed  girl,"  he  called  her  once,  to  Craig's  profound 
disgust. 

Craig  had  always  been  Joan's  special  chum,  who 
fetched  and  carried  for  her  and  did  all  her  girlish  be- 
hests without  grumbling.  In  his  idle  moments  he  would 
accompany  her  and  Lady  Dorothy  on  their  sketching 
expeditions,  and  load  himself  with  the  necessary  ap- 
paratus. He  was  always  ready  for  tennis  or  croquet. 
They  played  croquet  at  Morningside,  but  the  tennis 
courts    were    in    the    Abbey    grounds. 

And  then  suddenly  Craig's  manner  changed.  He 
was  still  her  good  comrade  and  friend,  but  he  treated 
her  with  greater  deference.  More  than  once,  when  they 
were  alone  together,  a  look  or  tone  had  made  Joan 
vaguely  uneasy.  Why  was  he  so  much  nicer  than  he 
used  to  be — so  watchful  and  observant  of  her  slightest 
word  ?  But  nt  this  point  of  her  retrospect  and  self- 
examination  Joan  was  disturbed  by  Rascal's  hysterical 
barking.  A  brown,  wrinkled  leg  was  visible  under  the 
mossy  log,  and  Joan  started  from  her  seat  as  a  large 
toad   crawled  out  from  his  hiding-place. 


IV 

"HE  MUST  MARRY  MONEY" 

Unnoticed,  saving  each  to  each, 

The  look,  the  touch, 
The  voiceless  language,  silent  speech 

That  mean  so  much. 

E.  H.  Keen 

Ah !  sure  within  him  and  without, 
Could  his  dark  wisdom  find  it  out, 
There  must  be  answer  to  his  doubt. 

Tennyson. 

Joan  had  no  special  antipathy  to  toads  as  long  as  they 
remained  at  a  respectful  distance.  She  always  declared 
their  jewelled  eyes  went  far  to  redeem  their  grotesque 
ugliness.  But  it  was  necessary  to  remove  Rascal  before 
he  barked  himself  into  a  fit.  So  she  wandered  off  into 
a  still  more  secluded  nook,  where  a  smooth  tree-trunk 
offered  a  seat.  Then  Rascal  was  chidden  and  made  to 
lie  down  beside  her,  which  he  did  most  unwillingly. 
This  little  episode  had  broken  the  thread  of  her  retro- 
spect, but  she  took  it  up  a  little  later. 

It  was  easy  for  Craig  to  come  over  from  Aldershot, 
and  he  spent  most  of  his  spare  time  at  Brant  wood.  If 
Joan  failed  to  turn  up  at  the  Abbey,  he  had  always 
some  excuse — a  message  from  his  mother  or  Dorothy — 
to  take  him  to  Morningside.  Though  Joan  chose  to 
ignore  the  fact,  her  heart  had  begun  to  beat  a  little 
faster  when  she  heard  the  garden  gate  swing  quickly 
back  on  its  hinges  and  the  tall  soldierly  figure  came 
striding  over  the  lawn. 

Craig  Bastow  was  not  so  handsome  as  his  brothers 
Clyde  and  Archibald,  but  he  was  a  fine-looking  fellow. 
His  features  were  good,  and  he  had  a  frank,  pleasant 
expression.     He  had   dark  blue  eyes,  which,  when   he 

S  S3 


34  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

chose,  could  be  sufficiently  eloquent;  and  Joan  always 
loved  to  hear  him  laugh,  there  was  something  so  in- 
fectious and  boyish  in  the  sound.  But  during  the  last 
few  weeks  he  had  been  more  grave. 

And  then — was  it  only  ten  days  ago? — he  had  accom- 
panied her  to  the  woods  to  gather  primroses.  Dorothy 
had  arranged  to  join  them  a  little  later,  but  something 
had  detained  her.  More  than  once  Joan  had  suggested 
that  he  should  go  back  to  the  house  to  fetch  her,  but 
he  had  refused  this.  Primroses  were  plentiful  and  the 
baskets  would  soon  be  full ;  he  knew  a  place  a  little 
higher  up  where  they  grew  in  profusion.  And  Craig 
was  right.  Joan's  eyes  fairly  ached  as  she  knelt  on  the 
ground  and   gathered  her  golden  harvest. 

Her  basket  was  overflowing  now,  and  she  rose  to 
her  feet  a  little  weary  and  giddy  from  her  pleasant 
work.  For  some  minutes  her  inner  consciousness  had 
told  her  that  Craig's  labours  had  ceased  also.  Why 
was  he  so  quiet?  She  did  not  dare  to  turn  her  head 
to  look  at  him,  but  as  she  rose  he  was  close  beside  her. 
He  took  the  basket  from  her  hand  and  set  it  down  in 
rather  a  peremptory  fashion. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  make  yourself  hot  and  tired, 
Joan  ;  Dorothy  will  not  need  any  more.  Why  not  rest 
on  the  stile  a  moment?"  But  Joan  objected  to  this. 
Dorothy  must  surely  be  on  her  way  now ;  they  must 
go  and  meet  her.  But  a  light  firm  touch  on  her  arm 
detained  her. 

"  Why  are  you  in  such  a  hurry,  Joan — I  hardly 
ever  get  you  alone  for  a  moment?  I  want  to  speak 
to  you.  I  must  and  will  speak  to  you.  You  are 
always  putting  me  off  with  some  excuse."  Then,  as 
she  heard  Craig's  masterful  tone,  Joan's  nerve  failed  her. 

"  Don't,  Craig."  she  said  imploringly,  but  looking 
away  from  him  as  she  spoke.  "  We  are  so  late.  Oh, 
if  Dorothy  would  but  come!  We  must  have  taken  a 
wrong   turning   and    missed    her." 

"  What  does  it  matter  about  Dorothy?  Are  you  afraid 


"  He  Must  Marry  Money  "  35 

to  be  alone  with  me?"  and  Craig's  voice  was  reproach- 
ful. "  Joan,  you  surely  do  not  need  words  to  tell  you 
how  dearly  1  have  grown  to  love  you.  I  have  always 
been  fond  of  you,  dear,  but  my  affection  has  grown 
into  something  stronger  and  different.  If  I  am  ever 
to  marry,  you  must  be  my  wife."  But  the  girl  snatched 
away  her  hand,  and  her  face  was  white  with  a  great 
fear. 

"  Oh,  for  pity's  sake  do  not  spoil  everything !  "  she 
said  in  a  distressed  voice.  "  We  have  been  such  dear 
friends,  you  and  I.  Oh,  Craig  " — as  he  looked  at  her 
in  grave  perplexity — "  don't  you  understand  you  must 
never,  never  say  such  a  thing  to  me  again  1  What 
is  the  use  of  letting  yourself  care  for  me  like  that,  when 
you  know  it  is  impossible !  " 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  returned  almost 
angrily ;  "  every  man  has  a  right  to  ask  the  girl  he 
loves  to  be  his  wife.  Should  you  be  afraid  of  waiting 
for  me  if  I  have  to  leave  you  and  go  to  India?"  But 
again  she  stopped  him. 

"  Hush,  you  must  not  talk  to  me  like  this ;  it  is 
wrong  and  I  will  not  listen !  Take  back  your  words, 
Craig,  and  I  will  try  to  forget  them,  and  we  will  go 
back  to  our  old  ways.  I  can  never  be  your  wife,  and 
I  will  not  let  you  think  so  for  a  moment !  " 

"  But  why  not,  Joan  ?  "  and  his  eyes  were  full  of 
blue  fire.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  do  not 
care  for  me  sufficiently?  Except  from  your  own  lips,  I 
will   never  believe   such   a   thing." 

"  I  do  care  for  you  as  a  dear  friend,"  she  returned 
unsteadily  ;  "  you  have  always  been  so  good  and  kind 
to  me.  But  I  do  not  wish  you  to  say  again  what  you 
did  just  now.  I  really  mean  it,  Craig  " — for  Joan  was 
growing   desperate    in   her   desire   to   escape. 

Craig's  face  wore  an  expression  of  bewildered  pnin. 
He  could  hardly  believe  his  ears.  Joan,  his  sweetheart 
Joan,  did  not  wish  him  to  speak  of  his  love — she  re- 
pudiated his  whole-hearted  attachment — she  only  cared 


36  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

for  him  as  an  old  friend.  Good  heavens,  was  he  mad 
or  dreaming! 

"  I  really  mean  it,  Craig."  This  time  Joan's  tone  was 
so  hard  and  steady  that  Craig  caught  up  the  basket 
of  primroses. 

"  We  may  as  well  meet  Dorothy,"  he  said  hoarsely, 
and  Joan  followed  him  meekly  without  a  word.  How 
could  he  guess  in  his  anger  that  she  was  trembling 
from  head  to  foot — that  she  could  scarcely  keep  her 
tears  back  ?  She  was  wilfully  allowing  him  to  misunder- 
stand her,  but  she  dare  not  set  him  right.  Not  love 
him !  when  she  would  have  willingly  thrown  herself 
into  his  arms  and  told  him  that  she  would  wait  for 
him  all  her  life.  She  had  hurt  him  cruelly,  she  knew 
that.  They  had  only  met  once  since  that  morning,  and 
his  manner  had  been  so  grave  and  stiff  that  Dorothy  had 
asked   her   if   they   had   quarrelled. 

"  Do  I  ever  quarrel  with  any  of  you  ?  "  poor  Joan 
had  answered.  "  But  I  think  Craig  is  a  little  put  out 
with  me  because  I  told  him  the  truth.  People  will 
disagree  in  their  opinions,  Dorcas  dear."  Dorcas  was 
her  pet  name   for  Lady  Dorothy. 

"  But  Craig  is  so  sweet-tempered  and  never  takes 
offence.  You  must  have  treated  him  badly  in  some 
way,  Joan."  For  Dorothy  was  very  loyal  to  her  brothers. 
But  Joan  only  shrugged  her  shoulders ;  she  must  brave 
it   out    as   long   as   possible. 

"  I  did  not  say  a  word  to  him  that  was  not  true," 
she  said  to  herself  dejectedly  as  she  recalled  that  scene. 
"  How  could  I  wish  him  to  go  on  caring  for  me  when  it 
would  only  make  him  unhappy !  His  people  would  never 
allow  him  to  marry  me.  Even  Lady  Mary  told  me  the 
other  day  that  they  all  want  him  to  fall  in  love  with 
Lady  Cicely.  '  His  parents  have  set  their  hearts  on  it,' 
those  were  her  very  words.  And  even  Dorothy  owns 
she  would  like  her  for  a  sister.  '  She  is  as  nice  as  she  is 
pretty — you  have  often  said  so  yourself,  Joan.'  "  And 
she  had  assented  to  this  with  a  heavy  heart.     "  I   like 


"  He  Must  Many  ]Money  "  37 

her  much  better  than  her  cousin  Marjorie,"  she  had 
ad  !ed ;  "  there  is  more  go  in  her.  Lady  Marjorie  is 
nice  too,  though  she  is  a  little  heavy  in  hand."  But 
tnough  sheer  honesty  had  obliged  her  to  say  this,  the 
thought  of  Lady  Cicely  was  a  sore  pain  to  her. 

She  had  not  lied  to  Craig  in  words — Joan  had  never 
told  a  falsehood  in  her  life,  with  all  her  faults  she  was 
perfectly  truthful — but  all  the  same  he  had  gone  away 
believing  what  was  utterly  false.  "  How  could  I  have 
had  the  heart  to  remain  silent?"  she  asked  herself  in 
remorseful  anguish.  "  And  yet  if  I  had  set  him  right 
lie  would  have  found  things  out  for  himself — Craig 
is  so  quick.  But  he  was  angry  and  puzzled,  and  I 
played  my  part  well.  Oh,  Craig,  and  you  never  guessed 
how  hard  it  was !  '  And  here  poor  Joan  broke  down 
utterly  and  sobbed  for  a  little  while  in  a  heart-broken 
way. 

Her  trouble  was  very  great.  She  had  grown  to  love 
Craig  so  dearly,  and  under  other  circumstances  the 
avowal  of  his  love  would  have  been  sweet  to  her  ears. 
Oh,  if  she  could  only  have  put  her  hand  in  his  and 
told  him  frankly  that  his  affection  was  returned !  But 
trouble  would  only  have  come  of  it.  They  would  all 
have  treated  her  as  though  she  were  a  culprit  and  had 
committed  some  unpardonable  offence.  Even  Dorothy, 
with  all  her  sweetness,  had  the  pride  of  her  race.  They 
would  urge  Lady  Mary  to  send  her  away,  and  the  gates 
of  her  paradise  would  be  closed  upon  her.  Joan  had 
been  guarding  her  secret  very  carefully  the  last  ten 
days;  it  had  therefore  been  a  shock  to  her  that  morn- 
ing when  Lady  Mary  had  questioned  her  so  closely 
about  Craig.  "  People  notice  that  you  two  are  always 
together,  and  my  sister-in-law  seems  uneasy  about  it; 
she  is  afraid  of  some  silly  flirtation.  Young  men  are 
not  always  prudent.  You  will  tell  me  the  truth,  I 
know.  Joan."  Tt  was  in  this  way  Lady  Mary  had  ex- 
ploded her  little  mine.  But  in  her  indignation  Joan's 
temper   had    given    way   and    she   had    refused   all   ex- 


38  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

planations.  Never  before  had  she  so  hurt  and  grieved 
her  kind  friend,  and  the  thought  of  this  added  bitterness 
to  her  trouble. 

Joan  was  beginning  to  repent  her  girlish  stubborn- 
ness and  pride.  It  was  no  fault  of  Lady  Mary's  that 
fate  was  so  cruel  to  her  and  Craig — there  was  no  need 
that  she  should  be  unhappy  too.  "  I  will  try  to  be 
more  patient  when  she  talks  to  me  this  evening,"  she 
thought,  as  she  slowly  retraced  her  steps.  "  I  tried  and 
worried  her  this  morning.  But  then  she  took  me  by  sur- 
prise. How  could  I  guess  people  were  spying  on  us  and 
carrying  tales  to  Lady  Merriton?  I  suppose  some  one 
overheard  us  in  the  copse — Craig  spoke  so  loudly  once 
or  twice ;  "  and  here  a  hot  flush  came  to  Joan's  face. 

Meanwhile  Lady  Mary  had  had  a  visitor.  She  had 
just  returned  to  the  house  when  the  Earl  was  announced. 
He  had  been  riding  to  a  distant  farm,  and  had  sent  his 
horse  on. 

"  I  thought  I  would  look  in  for  a  moment,  Mary," 
he  said,  throwing  himself  into  an  easy-chair  as  though  he 
were  fatigued.  "  I  know  you  are  coming  up  to  dinner 
this  evening,  but  all  the  same  I  wanted  a  word  with 
you."  Then  a  faint  blush  came  into  Lady  Mary's  face; 
in  spite  of  her  age,  her  colour  still  varied  like  a  girl's 
when  she  was  agitated  or  embarrassed. 

"  I  have  just  sent  Hildegarde  a  note  to  excuse  our 
coming  this  evening.  All  this  worry  has  given  ine 
a  headache,  George.  Tn  this  way  Lady  Mary  boldly 
took  the  bull  by  the  horns. 

Lord  Merriton  laid  aside  his  riding  gauntlets.  "I 
am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  he  said  slowly ;  for  he  was 
punctilious  by  nature,  and  rather  inclined  to  live  in 
a  groove.  Lady  Mary  had  always  dined  at  the  Abbey 
on  Thursdays,  and  he  saw  no  reason  why  such  an 
excellent  rule   should  be  broken. 

"  Of  course  you  know  best,  my  dear."  he  said  a 
little  stiffly.  "  Perhaps  by  the  evening  your  headache 
will  have  left  you."    But  Lady  Mary  hastily  interposed. 


"  He  Must  Marry  Money  "  39 

Her  headache  had  nearly  gone  now,  but  she  did  not 
wish   him  to  know   this. 

"  1  have  sent  the  note  now,  so  Hildegarde  will  not 
expect  us.  I  think  I  would  rather  come  some  other 
evening."  And  then  the  Earl  said  no  more  on  that 
subject. 

Lord  Merriton  was  a  placid,  well-preserved  man,  a 
little  heavy  in  build,  but  in  his  younger  days  he  had 
been  exceedingly  handsome.  He  had  the  Saxon  fair- 
ness which  his  three  elder  sons  had  inherited.  Craig 
was  darker  in  colouring,  but  he  had  his  father's  blue 
eyes. 

In  his  earlier  life  he  had  taken  some  interest  in 
politics,  but  he  had  never  been  a  speaker,  and  during 
the  last  few  years  he  had  settled  down  to  a  country 
life,  occupying  himself  with  his  farms  and  famous  breed 
of  shorthorns,  and  filling  up  his  spare  time  with  sport 
and  golf.  The  slight  lameness  which  at  one  time  had 
hampered  him  had  been  considerably  relieved  by  skilful 
treatment,  and  he  was  now  able  to  take  a  tolerable 
amount  of  walking  exercise,  though  he  still  preferred 
to  be  on  horseback.  He  had  no  special  intellectual 
tastes,  and  read  little  besides  his  paper  and  a  few  leading 
novels  and  books  of  travel.  If  the  truth  must  be  told, 
he  was  a  little  limited  in  his  capabilities;  but  for  all 
that  he  was  an  honest,  true-hearted  man,  and  Lady 
Mary    dearly    loved    and    honoured    him. 

"  I  am  sorry  about  this  worry,  George,"  she  con- 
tinued. Lady  Mary  invariably  called  her  brother  by 
his  Christian  name,  whereas  his  wife  always  addressed 
him  as  Merriton.  Lady  Mary  was  perfectly  aware  that 
he  had  come  to  Morningside  to  talk  things  over  with 
her,  but  that  he  would  find  it  difficult  to  begin  the  sub- 
ject— he  would  be  afraid  of  giving  her  pain. 

"  Hildegarde  seems  a  good  deal  put  out,"  he  returned  ; 
"  but  I  tell  her  that  she  is  making  too  much  of  it.  I 
expect  it  is  just  a  passing  fancy  on  the  boy's  part.  Young 
men,  even  the  best  of  them,  will  have  their  little  flirta- 


iO  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

tions.  Why,  I  had  been  half-a-dozen  times  in  love  be- 
fore I  was  Craig's  age.  I  was  only  telling  my  lady 
so  just  now.  '  You  should  only  believe  half  you  hear  ' 
— those  were  my  very  words — '  women  are  far  too 
ready    to   talk    and    make    mischief."  " 

"  But,  George,  Mrs.  Flavel  is  a  sensible  woman  and 
never  gossips  or  tells  tales.  She  only  said  that  she 
thought  it  right  for  us  to  know  that  at  Herondale  there 
was  far  too  much  talk  about  the  young  people.  Some- 
bod)  saw  them  in  the  wood  together  and  declared  that 
Craig  was  making  love  to  Joan,  and  that  frightened 
Hildegarde." 

Lord  Merriton  shifted  uneasily  in  his  seat.  He  had 
buoyed  himself  up  with  the  hope  that  Lady  Mary 
would  take  a  different  view  of  the  matter,  but  her  man- 
ner was   hardly   reassuring. 

"  Why  don't  you  question  the  girl?  "  he  said  irritably ; 
"  Joan  will  tell  you  the  truth."  Then  Lady  Alary  sadly 
assured  him  that  she  had  done  her  best  to  win  the 
girl's  confidence,  but  that  Joan  had  mounted  the  high 
horse  and  had  been  extremely  uncommunicative  and 
unreasonable. 

"  She  certainly  admits  that  lately  there  has  been 
some  attempt  at  love-making  on  Craig's  part,  and  that 
she  has  done  her  best  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  Indeed,  I 
believe  that  Craig  has  gone  so  far  as  to  make  her  an 
offer.  I  certainly  understood  that  she  had  refused  him." 
Then  a  frown  came  to  the  Earl's  brow ;  this  was  worse 
than    he   had    expected. 

"  I  must  talk  to  Craig,"  he  said  severely,  and  the 
sternness  of  his  aspect  filled  Lady  Mary  with  dismay. 
"  1  must  put  a  stop  to  this.  In  poor  Josselyn's  condition 
we  can  never  expect  him  to  marry  and  settle  down,  and 
it  would  be  sheer  madness  for  Craig  to  entangle  himself 
with  an  attachment  to  a  penniless  girl  who  has  very 
little  to  boast  of  in  the  way  of  family.  You  must  for- 
give me,  Mary,  my  dear,  but  though  Joan  is  your  adopted 
child,  she  is  not  the  wife  for  my  son  to  choose." 


"  He  Must  Marry  Money  "  41 

Lady  Mary  laid  her  hand  on  her  brother's  arm ;  it 
was  a  beautiful  hand,  though  a  little  thinner  than  it 
used  to  be. 

"  George,"  she  said  gently,  "  do  you  think  I  do  not 
know  that — that  I  am  not  aware  of  your  difficulties, 
and  how  poor  Josselyn's  debts  are  impoverishing  the 
estate.     You   have  had  so  much  trouble,  my  dear,  and 

if  Craig  were  to  fail  you "     Then  Lord   Merriton 

rose   to   his   feet   in   sudden   impatience. 

"  But  he  must  not  fail  us,  Mary.  I  will  talk  to  him. 
Craig  is  a  good  lad  and  has  a  sensible  head  on  his 
shoulders;  he  is  not  a  selfish  fool  like  Josselyn.  He 
has  to  think  of  others.  He  must  marry  money.  If 
anything  happens  to  Josselyn,  Craig  must  leave  the  army 
— his  mother  and  I  will  want  him."  Here  Lord  Merri- 
ton's  face  worked  with  emotion.  Then  again  the  soft 
hand  pressed  his  coat-sleeve. 

"  George,  you  know  me  by  this  time.  You  and 
Hildegarde  can  rely  on  me.  Speak  to  Craig  if  you 
will,  but  my  mind  is  made  up — until  the  boy  goes  to 
India  I  shall  have  to  send  Joan  away."  But  though 
Lady  Mary's  face  was  sad,  her  voice  was  firm  anu 
determined.  Where  her  brother's  interests  were  at  stake 
no  sacrifice  was  too  great  to  be  made  for  his  sake. 


V 

"I  AM  PROUD  OF  YOU,  JOAN" 

So  many  gods,  so  many  creeds, 
So  many  paths  that  wind  and  wind, 
While  jnst  the  art  of  being  kind 
Is  all  the  sad  world  needs. 

E.  W.  Wilcox. 

In  the  relations  of  the  old  with  the  young,  the  tenderness  and 
sympathy  may  well  be  on  the  elder  side,  for  age  has  known 
youth,  but  youth  has  not  known  age. — F.  A.  Kemble. 

The  drawing-room  at  Morningside  was  the  most  com- 
fortable room  in  the  house.  It  was  not  large,  but  it 
was  so  well-proportioned,  and  the  two  deep  bay  windows 
with  their  cushioned  seats,  half  concealed  by  tall  palms 
and  flower-baskets,  made  such  charming  nooks  and  re- 
cesses for  tetc-a-tctes.  Lady  Marjorie  and  her  cousin 
Lady  Cicely  always  looked  a  little  conscious  when  Lady 
Mary  would  call  them  smilingly  "  the  flirtation  corners," 
but  it  may  be  doubted  whether  they  were  ever  occupied 
for  this  purpose.  Joan  and  Dorothy  would  sit  there 
with  their  work  or  books,  but  during  Craig's  visits  Joan 
had  invariably  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  hints.  "  Lady 
Mary  cannot  either  see  or  hear  us  there,"  she  would 
say  in  her  decided  way,  as  she  seated  herself  in  the 
low  chair  which   she  generally   used. 

In  the  spring  evenings,  or  even  in  summer  when  it 
was  damp  and  cheerless,  there  was  always  a  bright  fire, 
to  the  infinite  content  of  Cocker,  who  loved  to  stretch 
himself  on  the  white  rug.  "  I  think  I  must  be  growing 
old  like  Cocker,"  Lady  Mary  would  say  sometimes  when 
she  came  down  from  her  dressing-room  and  saw  the 
cheerful  blaze ;  but  Joan  would  petition  for  a  little 
fresh  air. 

Lady  Mary  had  laid  aside  her  widow's  weeds — she 
knew  Sir  Martin  would  have  wished  her  to  do  so — but 

42 


"  I  am  Proud  of  You,  Joan  "  43 

she  always  wore  black.  She  knew  exactly  what  suited 
her,  and  loved  rich  heavy  materials  like  velvet  and  satin, 
and  she  had  a  weakness  for  old  lace ;  and  as  she  had 
an  excellent  maid  who  took  a  great  deal  of  pride  in  her 
mistress's  appearance,  Lady  Merriton  was  not  far  wrong 
when  she  said  once  that  her  sister-in-law  was  one  of 
the  best  dressed  and  most  distinguished  looking  women 
she  knew.  And  yet  Lady  Merriton  was  rather  cxigcante 
on  this  subject,  and  was  always  lecturing  her  daughter 
for  not  taking  more  pains  with  her  appearance. 

Lady  Dorothy  was  the  greatest  comfort  to  her 
parents,  and  she  was  a  most  affectionate  sister,  but  she 
was  not  a  social  success.  Though  by  no  means  a  beauty, 
she  was  rather  a  sweet-looking  girl ;  but  she  was  re- 
served and  had  no  belief  in  her  own  attractions,  and  her 
want  of  confidence  made  her  at  times  shy  and  abrupt. 

"  I  never  can  say  nice  things  when  I  want  to  do  so," 
she  would  complain  to  her  usual  confidante,  Joan. 
"  People  think  I  am  stupid  or  dense,  because  I  do  not 
laugh  and  say  smart  things  as  other  girls  do."  And  it 
must  be  owned  that  Lady  Dorothy's  partners  found  her 
a  little  stiff  and  serious,  though  she  danced  well  and 
made  no  demands  on  their  good-nature. 

Joan  was  always  very  nice  and  sympathetic  on  these 
occasions,  for  the  two  girls  understood  each  other 
thoroughly. 

"  You  do  not  make  enough  of  yourself,  Dorcas,  dear," 
she  said  once.  "  You  don't  set  out  your  best  wares 
where  any  passer-by  can  see  them.  Isn't  there  a  saying 
that  a  woman  is  only  as  old  as  she  looks?  Well,  I 
mean  to  coin  a  fresh  proverb  for  your  benefit — '  A 
girl  is  only  as  pretty  as  she  looks.'  No,  I  have  not  got 
that  right.  I  mean,  a  girl  can  make  herself  pretty,  if 
she  only  goes  the  right  way  about  it." 

"Oh.  Joan,  how  can  you  talk  such  nonsense!" 

"  It  is  not  nonsense  really,  only  I  can't  quite  express 
my  meaning.  Now.  if  I  had  been  in  your  place  last 
night  at  that  delightful  ball,  T  would  not  have  bothered 


44  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

my  head  about  my  want  of  beauty.  I  would  have  thought 
of  my  lovely  new  dress — it  really  was  a  dream,  Dorcas. 
— and  how  well  I  danced,  and  what  a  blessing  it  was 
that  my  skin  was  so  white  that  I  could  wear  turquoises. 
But  no,  I  daresay  not  one  of  these  comforting  thoughts 
occurred  to  you." 

Dorothy  smiled  a  little  ruefully.  "  I  am  afraid  not,. 
Joan.  I  never  could  take  much  comfort  in  clothes.  I 
was  only  thinking  how  pretty  Cicely  looked,  and  how 
people  seemed  to  like  her.  Why,  her  card  was  nearly 
full  before  she  had  been  ten  minutes  in  the  room,  and 
I   had  only  three  names  down  on  mine." 

Joan  looked  at  her  affectionately ;  she  was  very  fond 
of  Lady  Dorothy,  and  hated  to  see  her  depressed.  "  You 
must  not  be  so  shy  and  serious  with  your  partners,  dear. 
Young  men  expect  to  be  amused.  You  ought  to  have 
talked  to  Mr.  Cathcart  about  his  new  motor ;  Craig  says 
that  he  thinks  of  nothing  else.  And  Captain  Mount- 
joy  is  such  a  splendid  cricketer;  he  had  quite  an  ova- 
tion at  Lord's.  I  hope  you  congratulated  him  ?  "  But 
Dorothy  shook  her  head. 

"  I   forgot  all  about  it,"   she  said   simply. 

Lady  Merriton  would  sometimes  grumble  to  her 
sister-in-law  over  Dorothy's  social  failures. 

"  It  is  rather  hard  when  one's  only  daughter  is  so 
disappointing,"  she  said  one  day.  "  She  is  a  dear  good 
girl,  and  I  really  do  not  know  what  we  should  do 
without  her  at  home,  but  when  I  take  her  out  to  any 
social  function  it  quite  depresses  me  to  watch  her.  She 
looks  about  as  lively  as  though  she  were  going  to  a 
funeral  or  into  a  den  of  lions." 

Lady  Mary  laughed,  but  she  felt  called  upon  to 
defend  her  niece.  "  It  is  only  her  shyness,  Hildegarde. 
People  think  her  reserved  and  unapproachable,  but  she 
only  wants  drawing  out.  She  can  be  as  merry  as  pos- 
sible when  she  is  at  her  ease.  Why,  I've  seen  her  look 
quite  pretty  and  animated  when  the  right  sort  of  person 
is  talking  to  her."     But  Lady  Merriton  only  sighed. 


"  I  am  Proud  of  You,  Joan  "  45 

"  I  sometimes  think  she  will  never  settle.  Why,  at 
her  age  1  was  a  mother.  Don't  you  recollect  how  proud 
I  was  of  my  first  baby,  Alary  ?  Josselyn  was  such  a 
clear,  with  his  soft  fluffy  curls.  I  don't  think  any  of 
the  others  were  so  pretty.  And  yet  look  how  he  has 
turned  out.  Merriton  was  only  saying  last  night  that 
he  perfectly  dreaded  opening  a  letter  from  him — that  he 
was  bringing  us  all  to  ruin." 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear,"  interposed  Lady  Mary ;  "  I  think 
George  takes  far  too  gloomy  a  view  of  the  subject. 
Josselyn  has  promised  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf." 

"  Still,  things  are  bad  enough,"  replied  Lady  Mer- 
riton. "  And  that  is  why  her  father  and  I  are  so  anxious 
for  Dorothy  to  marry  well.     But  after  that  affair  last 

season "    and    here    she    looked    meaningly    at    her 

sister-in-law. 

Lady  Mary  was  silent.  Dorothy  had  certainly 
missed  her  chance  then.  Lord  Angus  Rother,  a  young- 
widower,  had  been  attracted  by  the  girl's  sweetness  and 
gentleness ;  and  as  he  had  a  good  fortune  of  his  own, 
and  was  the  younger  brother  of  a  duke,  he  was  one  of 
the  best  partis  of  the  season.  Lady  Merriton's  bosom 
had  swelled  with  gratified  pride  and  exultation.  But 
she  had  reckoned  without  her  host.  On  the  very  eve 
of  her  hoped-for  engagement,  when  Lord  Angus  came 
for  his  final  answer,  Dorothy's  heart  had  failed  her. 

"  I  like  you  so  much,"  she  said  to  him  piteously,  "  but 
I  do  not  care  for  you  sufficiently  to  marry  you.  It 
is  better  to  tell  you  this  now,  than  for  us  both  to  be 
unhappy."  And  though  he  argued  the  matter  with  her 
in  a  very  loverlike  fashion,  Dorothy  adhered  to  her 
resolution. 

"  I  found  out  in  time  that  I  did  not  love  him,"  she 
said  firmly.  "Why  are  you  so  angry  with  me,  mother? 
If  I  married  Lord  Angus  I  should  only  be  miserable. 
We  have  nothing  really  in  common,  and  he  would  never 
have  cared  for  me  as  he  did  for  Lady  Constance." 

But  Lady  Merriton  had  heard  her  with  ill-concealed 


46  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

impatience,  and  it  had  been  a  sore  subject  ever  since. 
Even  Lady  Mary,  with  all  her  desire  to  pour  oil  on 
the  troubled  waters,  thought  that  Dorothy  had  been  too 
hasty  in  her  decision. 

"  I  expect  she  cared  for  Lord  Angus  quite  as  much 
as  I  did  for  Martin,"  she  said  to  herself;  "and  yet  we 
were  happy  enough  together  during  our  married  life." 
And  though  she  was  very  fond  of  Dorothy,  she  owned 
that  she  could  not  quite  understand  her. 

"  It  is  a  pity  Dorothy  is  not  a  little  more  adaptable," 
she  would  say  to  her  brother.  "  In  my  day  girls  were 
not  so  full  of  fads,  and  they  still  had  a  touching  faith 
in  the  opinion  of  their  elders."  But  Lord  Merriton  only 
shrugged   his   broad    shoulders. 

When  Lady  Mary  and  her  young  companion  entered 
the  drawing-room  after  dinner  that  evening  they  settled 
themselves  as  usual  in  their  favourite  seats.  A  low 
table  with  a  reading-lamp  was  between  them,  but  neither 
of  them  took  up  their  work  or  books.  Lady  Mary  leant 
back  against  her  cushions  and  looked  thoughtfully  at  the 
fire.  She  was  wondering  whether  she  should  tell  her 
story  first  before  they  reopened  the  vexed  question ;  but 
Joan  was  too  quick  for  her. 

"  Dunlop  told  me  just  now  that  Lord  Merriton  had 
been  here  this  morning.  "  Dunlop  was  Lady  Mary's 
maid. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Lady  Mary,  hesitating  a  little  at  this 
unexpected  observation,  "  but  he  did  not  stay  long.  He 
had  lieen  riding  over  to  the  Red  Farm  and  was  passing 
the  gate.  He  seemed  disappointed  about  our  not  din- 
ing there  this  evening."  But  Joan  brushed  this  aside. 
She  liked  to  take  her  fences  boldly,  and  not  go  round 
in  search  of  gates. 

"I  suppose  he  came  to  talk  to  you  about  Craig?" 
she  asked  bluntly.  "  Mrs.  Flavel's  interference  and  tale- 
telling  has  raised  up  a  perfect  hornet's  nest  about  our 
cars.  That  is  the  worst  of  living  in  a  village — people 
have  so  much  leisure  to  discuss  their  neighbours'  affairs." 


"  I  am  Proud  of  You,  Joan  "  47 

There  was  a  flavour  of  bitterness  in  Joan's  words.  She 
had  always  respected  and  liked  Mrs.  Flavel,  but  now 
she   felt  it  would  be  hard  work  to  forgive. 

"  My  brother  was,  of  course,  rather  upset  about  all 
this  worry.  We  cannot  wonder  at  that,  Joan.  He 
says  he  will  talk  to  Craig — that  under  the  present  cir- 
cumstances, and  in  Josselyn's  condition,  Craig's  sense  of 
duty  ought  to  have  prevented  him  from  acting  in  this 
irresponsible  manner."  Joan  rested  her  chin  on  her 
clasped  hands  and  looked  fixedly  at  the  speaker.  Lady 
Mary's  manner  was  dignified,  but  she  was  certainly 
agitated   and   a   little   nervous. 

"  Of  course  you  told  Lord  Merriton  that  Craig  had 
proposed  to  me  and  that  I  had  refused  him  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  the  truth,  Joan ;  I  thought  he  had  a 
right  to  know,  and  I  wished  him  to  think  as  well  of 
you  as  possible.  He  certainly  seemed  inclined  to  lay 
the  entire  blame  on  Craig."  Then  an  accusing  flush 
came  to  the  girl's  face. 

"  I  don't  think  that  was  quite  fair  to  Craig.  I  ought 
to  have  understood  and  seen  sooner.  I — I — don't 
want  Lord  Merriton  to  be  hard  on  him."  There  was 
such  remorseful  pain  in  Joan's  voice  that  Lady  Mary's 
soft  heart  yearned  to  comfort  her. 

"  Let  us  put  it  all  aside  for  the  present,  dearest ;  I 
want  to  tell  you  about  an  old  love  story  of  my  own. 
You  thought  me  a  little  hard  and  unsympathetic  this 
morning — perhaps  that  was  why  you  refused  to  open 
your  heart  to  me.  But,  my  dear,  you  need  not  have 
misjudged  me.  When  I  was  young  I  had  my  own 
trouble.  I  was  not  in  love  with  my  husband  when  I 
married  him.  There  was  only  one  man  I  wished  to 
marry,  and  he  was  dead.  But  my  dear  Sir  Martin 
was  so  good  to  me,  and  thank  Cod  I  can  say  truly 
that  our  life  together  was  peaceful  and  happy."  Then 
Lady  Mary  felt  a  warm  girlish  hand  steal  into  hers. 

"  Please  tell  me  more — T  should  love  to  hear  it." 
And  then  very  simply  and  quietly  Lady  Mary  turned  to 


48  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

that  page  in  her  life's  history  which  had  been  so  marred 
and  tear-stained,  and  told  her  story.  But  before  she 
had  finished  Joan  was  on  the  stool  at  her  feet  and  her 
face  was  hidden  on  Lady  Mary's  lap. 

"  Oh,  how  could  you — how  could  you  give  him  up ! 
In  your  place  I  would  have  waited  any  number  of  years. 
He  was  so  good  and  he  loved  you  so !  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  my  duty  to  give  him  up,"  returned 
Lady  Alary  sadly ;  "  they  all  said  so.  But  if  you  knew 
how  I  suffered !  When  they  told  me  he  was  dying  I 
thought  I  should  have  gone  out  of  my  mind." 

"  But  you  went  to  him — surely  you  went  to  him, 
Lady  Mary?" 

"  I  would  have  gone  if  it  had  been  possible ;  but  we 
were  abroad,  and  I  should  have  arrived  too  late.  He 
sent  me  his  love  and  blessing,  and  begged  me  to  believe 
that  all  was  for  the  best.  But  somehow  life  never  seemed 
quite  the  same  after  Maurice's  death." 

"  No,  you  are  right  there,"  whispered  Joan ;  and  then 
she  looked  up  into  her  friend's  face.  "  Dear  Lady  Mary, 
I  know  why  you  have  given  yourself  the  pain  of  telling 
me  this  story — you  want  me  to  follow  your  example 
and  give  Craig  up.  In  your  case  I  think  the  sacrifice 
was  unnecessary — please  you  must  let  me  say  that — but 
it  will  be  perfectly  right  for  me.  Do  you  think  that 
1  do  not  know  that  all  Craig's  people  intend  him  to 
marry  Lady  Cicely?  If  I  had  not  been  in  the  way  he 
would  have  proposed  to  her  long  ago,  for  I  know  he 
likes  her;  and  she  is  so  nice,  and  yet  she  is  not  a  bit 
spoilt — she  is  one  of  the  nicest  girls  I  know."  Then,  as 
Joan  ended  a  little  breathlessly.  Lady  Mary  took  the 
girl's   flushed   face  between  her  hands. 

"  Joan,  tell  me  the  truth — whisper  it  in  my  ear  if 
vou  will — did  you  refuse  Craig  because  you  do  not  love 
him?" 

"  No,  Lady  Mary,"  and  Joan's  voice  was  firm  and 
clear;  "I  love  Craig  with  my  whole  heart;  I  would  be 
his  wife  joyfully  and  willingly  to-morrow.     But  I  never 


"I  am  Proud  of  You,  Joan"  49 

mean  him  to  know  this.  I  refused  him  because  I  love 
him  far  too  well  to  spoil  his  life  and  bring  trouble  and 
disappointment  to  his  people.  There,  1  have  told  you 
my  secret,  because  you  have  been  so  dear  and  good  to 
me ;  and  I  know  it  will  be  safe  with  you."  Then  Lady 
Mary  smiled,  but  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  I  am  proud  of  you,  Joan ;  you  have  been  a  brave 
girl/' 

"  Have  I  ?  I  thought  I  played  my  part  pretty  badly ; 
but  it  was  only  a  first  rehearsal,  you  know ;  but  there 
was  a  quiver  of  the  girl's  lips  as  she  spoke. 

"  Yes ;  but  the  question  is,  how  are  we  to  act  for  the 
future?"  and  here  Lady  Mary's  voice  was  solemn  and 
pregnant   with   meaning. 

"  Joan,  you  have  behaved  as  well  as  possible,  and 
I  love  you  all  the  more  for  your  noble  conduct.  I  trust 
you  perfectly,  but  the  situation  is  impossible ;  for  Craig's 
sake — for  all  our  sakes — I  must  send  you  away."  But 
though  Joan's  head  drooped  for  a  moment  there  was  no 
reply. 

"  We  must  part,  my  child,"  continued  Lady  Mary 
sorrowfully  ;  "  at  least  for  a  few  months,  until  Craig  is 
safe  in  India.  As  long  as  he  is  at  Aldershot,  riding 
or  motoring  over  here  nearly  every  day,  Morningside 
cannot  be  your  home.  You  see  that  for  yourself,  do 
you  not?  "  with  an  anxious  glance  at  the  downcast  face. 
Then  Joan  nodded ;  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  speak 
yet.  In  her  secret  thoughts  she  had  dreaded  this.  Of 
course  Lady  Mary  was  right,  the  situation  was  impos- 
sible. How  was  she  to  live  there  and  see  him  woo  Lady 
Cicely,  and  play  her  part  so  perfectly  that  Craig  should 
never  have  a  suspicion  of  the  truth ?  "I  am  not  strong 
enough  to  do  it,"  she  said  to  herself;  "I  should  break 
down  and  disgrace  myself ;  the  prolonged  effort  would 
wear  me  out." 

"  Yes,  you  are  quite  right,"  she  returned  in  a  stifled 
voice,  "  it  would  be  far  better  for  every  one  that  I  should 
go  away." 

4 


50  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  It  would  not  be  for  long,  dear — only  five  or  six 
months — and  then  our  old  life  will  begin  again.  Shall 
we  make  the  best  of  it,  Joan?  There  will  be  no  diffi- 
culty about  arranging  matters.  I  will  write  to  Heath 
and  suggest  that  you  shall  pay  him  a  long  visit. 
Perhaps  I  may  have  to  give  him  a  hint,  but  I  will  be 
very  careful.  There  is  one  comfort,  you  will  not  have 
to  go  to  Kelmscott  Rectory."  For  a  few  months  pre- 
viously Heath  Leigh  had  climbed  another  rung  of  the 
social  ladder,  and  he  was  now  a  canon  of  St.  Breda's. 
Joan,  who  had  paid  her  brother  a  fleeting  visit  at  Christ- 
mas, had  been  very  enthusiastic  in  her  description  of  the 
beautiful  old  house  in  the  Precincts,  and  of  the  glorious 
cathedral ;  but  on  the  present  occasion  there  was  no 
lightening  of  her  gravity. 

"  Of  course  I  am  thankful  that  they  have  left 
Kelmscott,"  she  returned  in  rather  a  dreary  voice.    "  But 

five  or  six   months  with   Silence No,  there  is  no 

use  talking  about  it ;  when  a  thing  has  to  be  done,  it 
is  better  for  one  just  to  go  and  do  it.  You  shall  write 
to  Heath,  and  I  will  set  about  packing  as  soon  as  you 
like." 

"  As  I  like !  Oh,  Joan,  are  you  so  full  of  your  own 
trouble  that  you  have  no  time  to  be  sorry  for  me?  Do 
you  know  how  I  shall  miss  your  dear  bright  face  in 
the  mornings  and  evenings?"  Then  Joan,  melted  by 
that  fond  tone,  threw  her  arms  round  Lady  Mary's 
neck. 

"  Oh,  I  will  try  to  be  good  and  brave,"  she  sobbed. 
"  but  it  is  so  hard  for  both  of  us !  "  And  after  this 
they  discussed  things  more  calmly. 


VI 

"IF  ANYTHING  SHOULD  HAPPEN!" 

Never  give  way  to  melancholy.  Nothing  encroaches  more. 
I  fight  against  it  vigorously.  One  great  remedy  is  to  take  short 
views  of  life.  .  .  .  Then  why  destroy  a  present  happiness 
by  a  distant  misery  which  may  never  come  at  all,  or  you  may 
never  live  to  see?  For  every  substantial  grief  has  twenty 
shadows,  most  of  them  your  own  making. — Sydney  Smith. 

It  was  much  later  than  usual  when  Joan  bade  Lady 
Mary  good-night  and  went  up  to  her  room ;  but,  tired 
as  she  was,  she  felt  disinclined  to  seek  her  pillow.  She 
took  off  her  pretty  evening  dress  and  put  on  her  dress- 
ing-gown, and,  as  her  head  felt  hot  and  heavy,  she  let 
down  her  hair ;  then  she  turned  down  the  light  and 
sat  by  the  open  window  to  enjoy  the  refreshment  of  the 
cool  night  air.  The  moon  had  just  emerged  from  the 
clouds,  and  there  was  a  shining  silvery  path  across 
the  dark  lawn,  and  only  the  weird  sound  of  an  owl 
hooting  in  the  distance  broke  the  deep  stillness.  But 
as  Joan  folded  her  hands  behind  her  head — a  favourite 
attitude  with  her  when  she  felt  disposed  for  meditation 
— the  quiet  and  peace  of  the  nocturnal  hour  failed  to 
soothe  her. 

For  deep  down  in  her  heart  there  was  an  unsolved 
problem  and  a  great  fear,  to  which  she  dare  not  give 
utterance.  More  than  once  that  evening  a  question 
had  risen  to  her  lips,  but  as  she  had  looked  at  Lady 
Mary's  tired  face  she  had  not  the  courage  to  ask  it; 
but  now  in  her  solitude  it  pressed  upon  her  with  renewed 
persistence. 

Lady  Mary  had  talked  with  forced  cheerfulness  of 
the  five  or  six  months  of  absence.  "  It  is  almost  certain 
that  Craig's  battery  will  be  ordered  to  India  in 
November,"  she  said,  "  and  you  shall  come  back  to  me 
the  first  possible  day."   But  though  Joan  had  smiled  and 

51 


52  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

assented  to  this,  the  ominous  question  still  made  itself 
heard — *'  What  if  anything  should  happen  during  those 
months?"  The  last  accounts  of  Lord  Josselyn  had  not 
been  good,  and  Dorothy  had  told  her  only  the  previous 
day  that  her  father  and  mother  were  very  anxious. 
"If  Arthur  gets  worse,  they  mean  to  go  out  to  him," 
she  continued.  "  Mother  has  made  father  promise  to 
take  her;  they  cannot  bear  the  idea  of  his  being  alone 
at  a  hotel,  and  just  now  Craig  cannot  get  leave  of 
absence,  he  has  to  train  his  men  for  the  summer 
manoeuvres,  and  expects  to  be  much  engaged  the  next 
two  or  three  months."  But  Joan  had  been  fully  aware 
of  these   facts. 

But  if  Josselyn  were  to  die,  how  was  Craig  to  go  to 
India  ?  The  Earl  would  give  him  no  peace — he  would  be 
obliged  to  sell  out  and  leave  his  beloved  battery.  How 
could  his  parents  be  deprived  of  all  their  sons?  Alas, 
alas,  under  those  circumstances  Craig's  duty  would  be 
as  clear  as  the  daylight.  Road-making  on  the  frontier 
was  at  times  a  risky  business ;  one  or  two  of  the 
mountain  tribes  threatened  trouble — if  Craig  were  the 
only  surviving  son  and  heir,  his  life  would  be  too  valu- 
able to  be  sacrificed  in  one  of  those  costly  little  frontier 
wars.  Craig  would  have  to  crush  down  his  ambition 
and  longings  for  a  soldier's  life.  What  was  the  Bastow 
motto?  "  Faithful  and  enduring."  Would  Craig  be 
likely  to  shun  his  duty?  The  blood  seemed  to  be  sud- 
denly chilled  in  Joan's  veins  as  she  followed  out  this 
thought;  for  if  Craig  did  not  go  to  India,  Morningside 
could  no  longer  be  her  home.  The  parting  between  her 
and  Lady  Mary  might  be  for  years,  not  months,  unless 
— unless — and  here  Joan  shivered  afresh — Craig  re- 
nounced his  old  sweetheart  and  married  Lady  Cicely. 

Poor  Joan,  she  could  see  no  way  out  of  the  per- 
plexity and  darkness ;  in  her  heart-sick  depression  and 
trouble  it  seemed  to  her  excited  fancy  as  though  some 
avenging  angel  stood  at  the  door  of  her  paradise  with 
a  flaming  sword  that  turned  every  way. 


"If  Anything  Should  Happen!"         53 

She  had  no  clue  in  her  labyrinth  of  difficulty.  Craig 
across  the  sea  in  India,  and  she  lonely  at  Morningside, 
forbidden  even  to  think  of  him  except  in  her  prayers; 
or  else  Craig  at  Brantwood  or  in  London,  and  she  at 
St.  Breda's  Lodge  in  an  uncongenial  environment.  "  How 
is  one  to  bear  it?"  she  sighed  at  last,  when,  worn  out 
by  a  sense  of  hopelessness  and  misery,  she  crept  to  her 
bed  and  sobbed  herself  to  sleep. 

Joan  was  no  coward,  she  had  plenty  of  pluck  and 
spirit ;  but  in  youth  one  suffers  terribly.  Age  at  times 
forgets  this.  The  young  have  not  learned  the  true  pro- 
portion of  things,  their  perspective  is  often  at  fault,  their 
molehills  of  difficulty  seem  to  loom  out  of  the  distance 
like  mountains,  they  can  find  no  bridges  for  their  rivers 
and  foaming  torrents,  they  cannot  see  the  wood  for  the 
trees,  the  sunshine  has  gone.  Will  the  skies  ever  be 
blue  and  clear  again — will  their  young  hearts  ever  again 
sing  for  joy? 

Joan  little  guessed  that  the  same  thoughts  had  come 
to  Lady  Mary,  and  that  she  had  forborne  to  utter  them 
for  fear  of  adding  to  Joan's  trouble. 

"  Poor  little  girl,  she  has  quite  enough  on  her  mind 
now,"  she  thought ;  "  it  would  be  cruel  to  put  these 
unsettled  ideas  into  her  head.  What  was  the  use  of 
worrying  oneself  about  a  thing  which  might  never 
happen?  What  was  that  verse  Craig  once  repeated  to 
them  when  Joan  was  depressed  about  the  future  of  a 
village  lad  in  whom  she  was  much  interested,  and  who 
had  run  away  to  sea?  Joan  had  copied  it  into  her  ex- 
tract-book, and   had   often   quoted   it   for  her  benefit. 

Some  of  your  hurts  you  have  cured, 
And  the  sharpest  you  still  have  survived; 

But  what  moments  of  grief  you  endured 
From   evils    which   never   arrived  !  " 

'  There  is  a  mine  of  wisdom  in  that,  isn't  there, 
Aunt  Mary?"  he  had  observed  in  his  cheery  way. 
'  That  old   fellow,  Emerson,  knew  a  thing  or  two — I 


54  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

call  that  grand  philosophy.  Some  people  seem  to  me 
as  though  they  were  always  looking  round  the  corner 
with  a  spy-glass  to  watch  for  something  unpleasant  to 
happen." 

"  1  must  not  he  one  of  those  people,"  thought  Lady 
Alary,  as  she  recalled  Craig's  boyish  philosophy.  "  And, 
after  all,  poor  Arthur  may  live  for  years.  I  daresay 
Craig  will  go  out  to  India,  and  do  his  road-making, 
and  fight  a  battle  or  two  before  he  has  to  give  up 
soldiering.  Oh,  clear,  oh,  dear,  if  only  Joan  had  money 
and  a  long  pedigree!  "  For  the  thought  of  these  young 
creatures,  separated  by  unkind  circumstances,  lay  heavily 
on  Lady  Mary's  loving  heart.  But  not  for  one  moment 
did  she  flinch  from  the  course  of  duty  which  her  con- 
science prescribed. 

Lady  Mary  had  a  reasonable,  patient  nature,  and  she 
made  no  great  demands  on  life.  In  her  youth  she  had 
had  a  great  sorrow,  and  she  had  been  slow  in  recover- 
ing from  it,  but  the  years  of  her  married  life  had  been 
like  some  peaceful  breakwater.  Then  had  come  her 
widowhood,  and  her  brother's  loving  care  for  her.  She 
had  gone  back  to  her  own  people,  and  their  cares  and 
sorrows  and  joys  had  been  hers.  And  then  Joan  had 
come,  and  the  quiet  rooms  at  Morningside  had  been 
illuminated  with  spring  sunshine.  Nevertheless,  those 
seven  years  had  not  been   free  from  trouble. 

Lady  Mary's  nature  was  extremely  sympathetic. 
When  Archie  and  Clyde  Bastow  died,  there  was  no  one 
who  could  comfort  the  bereaved  mother  as  Lady  Mary 
could. 

"  Aunt  Mary  says  very  little,  but  she  has  such  a 
soothing  manner,"  Dorothy  once  said  to  her  friend 
Prudence  Rutherford,  the  Rector  of  Herondale's  sister. 
"  She  never  talks  goody-goody  like  some  folk,  or  pelts 
people  with  texts  like  old  Mrs.  Ramsden.  She  just 
makes  them  feel  how  sorry  she  is  for  them,  and  how 
she  would  bear  it  for  them  if  she  could,  and  that  makes 
her  such  a  pillow  of  comfort." 


"If  Anything  Should  Happen!"        55 

"  Texts  are  very  nice,"  returned  Prudence  thought- 
fully, "  and  one  finds  them  useful  if  selected  with  dis- 
crimination ;  the  mistake  is  when  they  are  strung  to- 
gether loosely  like  beads.  I  remember  a  speech  old  Mrs. 
Gilbert  made  when  Mrs.  Ramsden  had  paid  her  a  visit 
of  condolence  after  her  husband's  death.  You  remember 
the  deaf  old  man  who  was  run  over  by  a  motor  ?  "  And 
as  Lady  Dorothy  nodded — "  '  The  texts  were  all  very 
grand,  but  they  did  not  seem  to  fit  somehow,  and  they 
were  buzzing  in  one's  head  like  bluebottle  flies.  But 
then  I  have  been  dazed-like  since  my  old  man  left  me. 
What  is  the  use  of  hooting  to  deaf  ears,  Rector,  I  says, 
and  then  trampling  on  the  poor  old  creature !  But  there, 
when  he  has  got  over  the  shock  a  bit,  I  daresay  he 
will  be  fine  and  glad  to  get  rid  of  his  rheumatism,  and 
to  be  able  to  enjoy  the  grand  music  up  there/  "  And 
Lady  Dorothy  had  been  much  amused  by  this  little 
anecdote. 

Lady  Mary  was  very  humble  in  her  opinion  of  her- 
self. She  used  to  take  herself  to  task  for  her  shyness. 
She  had  a  reticent  nature,  and  it  was  not  easy  for  her 
to  speak ;  sometimes  the  right  word  failed  to  come,  and 
then  she  would  remain  silent. 

When  Josselyn  began  to  tread  the  downpard  path, 
and  poor  Lady  Merriton  confided  her  heart-sick  anxieties 
to  her  patient  hearer,  Lady  Mary  had  pressed  her  hand 
gently. 

"Yes,  I  understand;  we  can  only  pray  for  him,  you 
and  I — there  is  nothing  else  to  be  done  " ;  and  these 
words  had  sunk  deeply  into  the  mother's  heart. 

"  Your  Aunt  Mary  is  a  good  woman,  and  I  love  her 
dearly,"  she  had  said  that  night  to  Dorothy.  Then 
Dorothy  took  her  mother's  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  And  I  shall  love  her  better  than  ever  for  being  so 
good  to  you,   dear,"   she  said   affectionately. 

Lady  Mary  was  none  the  better  for  her  anxious, 
sleepless  night,  and  as  she  dressed  herself  the  next  morn- 
ing she  was  fully  aware  that  the  penalty  would  be  paid 


56  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

in  the  shape  of  a  severe  sick  headache,  but  she  determined 
to  fight  against  it  as  long  as  possible.  She  had  to  write 
that  letter  to  Heath  Leigh,  and  there  was  no  time  to 
lose.  She  was  sure  that  Lady  Merriton  would  implore 
her  to  send  Joan  away  as  soon  as  possible,  and  she  meant 
to  put  off  dining  at  the  Abbey  until  Heath's  answer 
reached  her. 

Joan  looked  at  her  anxiously  as  she  entered  the  din- 
ing-room. "  You  are  going  to  have  one  of  your  really 
bad  headaches,"  she  said  reproachfully,  "  and  you  ought 
to  be  in  bed."  And  though  Lady  Mary  could  not  truth- 
fully contradict  this  statement,  she  only  smiled  faintly 
and  rang  the  bell  for  prayers.  She  was  not  a  woman  to 
make  much  of  a  small  ailment,  and  the  letter  was  writ- 
ten, and  two  or  three  other  pressing  bits  of  business 
were  settled,  before  increasing  pain  forced  her  to  return 
to  her  room. 

Joan  had  had  luncheon  at  Herondale  Rectory.  She 
had  promised  to  help  Prudence  Rutherford  to  mark  and 
pack  some  articles  for  a  sale  of  work  in  a  poor  East 
End  parish.  There  were  two  or  three  pinafores  to  finish, 
and  it  was  tea-time  before  the  parcel  was  ready  for  the 
carrier;  but  Joan,  who  felt  Lady  Mary  had  been  left 
alone  long  enough,  refused  her  friend's  pressing  invita- 
tion to   remain  another  half-hour. 

It  was  a  disappointment,  therefore,  when  she  reached 
Morningside  to  hear  from  Willis  that  his  mistress  was 
in  bed,  with  Dunlop  in  attendance.  Joan  drank  her 
solitary  cup  of  tea,  then  she  went  up  to  see  the  invalid. 
She  had  always  to  be  exceedingly  careful  when  Dunlop 
was  mounting  guard.  She  was  an  excellent  person  and 
an  admirable  nurse,  but  she  was  somewhat  tenacious  of 
her  privileges  and  inclined  to  resent  any  interference  on 
Joan's  part. 

As  Joan  entered  the  carefully  darkened  room,  Dunlop, 
who  was  bathing  Lady  Mary's  temples  with  eau  de 
Cologne  and  water,  looked  at  the  girl  reprovingly.  "  My 
lady  is  not  fit  to  talk,  Miss  Joan,"  she  said  tartly.     But 


"If  Anything  Should  Happen!"        57 

Lady  Mary  looked  at  her  favourite  with  an  attempt  at 
a  smile. 

"  It  is  only  one  of  my  stupid  sick  headaches,  Joan. 
I  did  not  sleep  well  last  night,  and  now  the  pain  will 
have  its  way.  You  will  have  a  lonely  evening,  my  dear, 
for  Dunlop  is  right  and  I  cannot  talk.  I  daresay  I  shall 
be  all   right  to-morrow." 

"But  I  may  come  and  wish  you  good-night?"  But 
before  Lady  Mary  could  answer,  Dunlop  struck  in. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  Miss  Joan,  that  is  what  you 
may  not  do.  In  a  couple  of  hours  I  shall  be  giving 
her  ladyship  some  coffee,  and  later  on  Dr.  Walton's 
composing-draught,  and  then  I  hope  she  will  get  some 
sleep."  Dunlop  was  so  decided,  and  so  unusually 
snappish  in  manner,  that  Joan  was  forced  to  beat  a 
retreat. 

She  was  certainly  not  in  the  mood  for  a  solitary 
evening,  and  when  dinner  was  over,  and  she  had  put 
Rascal  through  his  usual  programme  of  parlour  tricks 
— Cocker  never  left  his  mistress  when  she  was  unwell 
— she  was  at  a  loss  how  to  occupy  herself.  The  idea  of 
fancy-work  was  abhorrent  to  her ;  the  piano  would  dis- 
turb Lady  Mary,  as  her  room  was  over  the  drawing- 
room  ;  her  book  did  not  interest  her ;  and  the  house  felt 
like  a  prison.     If  she  had  only  Dorothy  to  talk  to  her! 

Then  the  door-bell  rang,  and  she  jumped  up  from 
her  seat  in  some  excitement.  Dorothy  now  and  then 
paid  them  a  surprise  visit  in  the  evening.  Good  Dorcas, 
how  delightful  it  would  be  to  get  her  all  to  herself ! 
Then  the  drawing-room  door  opened  and  Craig  marched 
in.  He  looked  rather  taken  aback  when  he  saw  Joan 
was  alone.  Joan's  face  had  grown  suddenly  crimson,  as 
she  silently  gave  him  her  hand.  At  that  moment  she  did 
not  venture  to  speak. 

"Where  is  Aunt  Mary?"  he  asked  quickly,  looking 
round  the  room. 

"Lady  Mary  has  a  bad  sick  headache  and  has  gone 
to  bed.     I  wonder  Willis  did  not  tell  you." 


58  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Barton  let  me  in,  and  I  never  thought  of  asking 
him.  Poor  Aunt  Mary !  But  I  expect  she  will  soon  be 
all  right." 

"  Oh,  yes,  her  headaches  seldom  last  for  more  than  a 
few  hours.  She  has  just  had  some  coffee,  and  by  and 
by  she  will  have  a  composing-draught,  and  then  she 
will    probably    fall    asleep." 

"  Well,  I  am  in  luck's  way,  for  I  was  just  wondering 
how  I  was  to  get  you  alone  for  half-an-hour,  and  now 
there  is  no  difficulty."  Craig  was  not  speaking  in  his 
usual  manner ;  he  seemed  nervous  and  constrained. 
''Aren't  you  going  to  sit  down?"  But  Joan  shook  her 
head.  She  must  get  rid  of  him.  What  would  Lady 
Mary  say? 

"  It  is  so  late,"  she  returned ;  "  I  think  it  would  be 
better  to  talk  another  time."  Poor  Joan,  she  was  feel- 
ing very  frightened  and  helpless.  Craig  was  so  master- 
ful when  he  chose ;  he  might  refuse  to  go.  He  was  look- 
ing at  her  now,  and  there  was  a  frown  on  his  brow. 

"  Look  here,  Joan,"  he  said  obstinately,  "  I  am  going 
to  talk  to  you,  and  you  have  got  to  listen,  and  to  answer 
one  or  two  questions. 

"  My  father  has  been  speaking  to  me.  The  poor  old 
man  seems  as  upset  as  possible.  Somebody  has  let  the 
cat  out  of  the  bag,  for  he  told  me  to  my  face  that  I  had 
proposed  to  you,  and  that  you  had  refused  me — rightly 
refused  me  were  his  words." 

Joan's  head  drooped  as  Craig's  stern  blue  eyes  were 
fixed  on  her ;  a  burning  blush  came  to  her  cheek. 

"  Oh,  Craig,  it  was  not  my  fault !  "  she  exclaimed, 
unable  to  endure  this.  "  Some  one  had  seen  us  in  the 
wood,  and  Mrs.  Flavel  had  talked  to  your  mother,  and 
then  Lady  Mary  was  told.  She  guessed  things,  and 
p^kcd  me  questions,  and  I  could  not  tell  a  lie — it  was 
no  use  trying  to  hide  it — and  so  I  was  obliged  to  acknowl- 
edge the  truth.  Oh,"  went  on  Joan  desperately,  "  you 
don't  know  how  T  hated  it  all — I  never  wanted  any  one 
to  know  !  Oh,  Craig,  you  do  believe  me?  "  Then  Craig's 
sternness  relaxed. 


"If  Anything  Should  Happen!"         59 

"  I  am  not  blaming  you,  Joan,"  he  said  more  gently. 
'*  Did  you  think  I  was  ?  I  was  only  angry  with  these 
busybodies  who  have  forced  my  hand.  As  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  the  whole  of  Brantwood  and  Herondale  and 
Atherton  are  welcome  to  know  the  fact  that  I  am  trying 
to  win  you.  But  I  certainly  wish  that  they  had  left  my 
father  in  peace  a  little  longer."  Then  Joan  breathed 
more  freely.  Craig  was  not  blaming  her — he  knew  it 
was  not  her  fault. 


VII 

"WILL  YOU  TAKE  BACK  THOSE  WORDS?" 

Something  I  must  do  individual 

To  vindicate  my  nature,  to  give  proof 

I  also  am  a  man. 

Clough. 

It  is  only  with  Renunciation  that  Life  properly  speaking  can 
be  said  to  begin. — Carlyle. 

There  was  a  momentary  silence.  The  two  young 
people  were  still  standing  by  the  fireplace,  but  now  Craig 
changed  his  position.  Resting  his  arm  against  the  man- 
telpiece, he  shaded  his  face  with  his  hand.  He  was 
watching  Joan  intently,  but  the  girl  was  unconscious  of 
this.  The  fire  had  suddenly  blazed  up  rather  fiercely, 
and  she  moved  a  little  away  from  it. 

Joan  was  looking  very  young  and  girlish  in  her 
simple  white  dress.  Lady  Mary  always  liked  her  to  wear 
white  in  the  evening ;  she  said  nothing  else  suited  her 
so  well.  On  her  last  birthday  she  had  given  her  a 
set  of  turquoise  pins  for  her  hair,  which  looked  like 
forget-me-nots  and  had  a  charming  effect,  but  Joan  had 
not  cared  to  wear  them  this  evening.  She  had  fastened 
her  pearl  necklet  mechanically,  and  without  even  looking 
at  herself.  The  pearls  had  also  been  Lady  Mary's  gift. 
Joan  always  looked  her  best  in  evening  dress ;  she  had 
such  a  pretty  white  neck,  and  her  rounded  arms  were 
so  finely  proportioned,  and  in  the  lamplight  her  hair 
shone  like  gold.  Without  being  handsome,  she  was  very 
effective.     Rut  in  Craig's  eyes  she  was  beautiful. 

The  silence  and  something  electric  in  the  atmosphere 
were  making  Joan  nervous.  She  had  not  yet  succeeded 
in  sending  Craig  away.  Tn  her  perturbation  she  tried 
to  resume  her  old  ease  and  air  of  camaraderie,  but  it  was 
a  sad  failure. 

60 


"  Will  You  Take  Back  Those  Words?"     61 

"  I  hope  your  father  was  nice  tp  you,  Craig?  "  But 
she  repented  her  friendly  overture  a  moment  later. 
Lovers  have  their  own  ideas  of  honesty ;  if  you  give  them 
an  inch,  they  take  an  ell.  Craig's  face  brightened  in  an 
alarming  way. 

"  That  is  kind  of  you,  Joan,  and  shows  that  you 
have  not  lost  all  interest  in  me.  Oh,  yes,  he  was  nice 
and  fatherly,  but  a  bit  heavy-handed  and  crushing.  Oh, 
I  did  my  best  not  to  quarrel  with  him  " — as  Joan  seemed 
rather  frightened  at  this — "  but  I  had  to  stand  up  for 
my  rights  as  a  freeborn  Briton.  You  see,  he  wanted 
me  to  go  his  way  and  knock  under  to  his  ideas,  which 
were  not  exactly  mine.  We  had  rather  a  scrimmage, 
and  the  dear  old  dad  lost  his  temper  and  said  some  very 
unpleasant  things." 

"  Oh,  Craig,  I  am  so  sorry !  "  and  Joan's  eyes  were 
soft  with  sympathy.  Craig  gave  her  a  quick  glance 
and  went  on. 

"  His  terms  were  simply  impossible,  and  so  I  told 
him.  He  not  only  put  down  his  foot  and  forbade  me 
at  my  peril  to  renew  my  offer  to  you  " — here  Joan  per- 
ceptibly started — "  but  he  insisted  that  I  must  marry 
money.  I  had  no  idea  that  things  were  in  such  a  mess," 
Craig  continued  ruefully.  "  I  knew  Josselyn  was  going 
the  pace,  but  he  must  be  without  conscience  to  run  up 
all  these  beastly  debts.  If  he  lives  much  longer  we  shall 
all  be  as  poor  as  church  mice.  Why,  the  poor  old 
governor  thinks  he  ought  to  sell  the  Grosvenor  Square 
house." 

"  Oh,  no,  Craig,  he  must  not  think  of  that !  What 
would  your  mother  and  Dorothy  do?"  For  Lady 
Merriton  always  took  her  daughter  to  town  for  the 
season.  The  Earl  would  accompany  them,  but  after  a 
fortnight  or  three  weeks  he  would  make  some  excuse 
and  return  to  his  beloved  Abbey,  only  paying  them  fly- 
ing visits  at  intervals.  Once,  when  his  wife  had  ven- 
tured to  remonstrate  with  him,  he  had  answered  her 
with  unusual  asperity. 


62  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  If  you  have  any  wish  to  shorten  ray  life,  you  may 
press  me  to  stay  here ;  but  I  shall  certainly  have  an 
attack  of  gout  before  many  days  are  over."  And  Lady 
Merriton  was  obliged  to  concede  the  point.  But  when 
Dorothy  seemed  inclined  to  follow  the  same  track,  the 
Countess  was  inexorable. 

"  We  owe  our  duty  to  society,"  she  said  firmly.  "  Do 
you  think  I  am  not  tired  too,  sitting  up  night  after 
night,  and  trying  to  make  myself  pleasant?  We  must 
just  go  through  with  it."  And  no  hints  thrown  out  by 
anxious  friends  over  Dorothy's  languid  and  weary  ap- 
pearance changed  this  Spartan  determination,  to  do  her 
duty. 

Joan  was  very  fond  of  the  Grosvenor  Square  house. 
She  had  spent  some  very  pleasant  times  there.  Lady 
Mary  had  now  and  then  taken  her  and  Dorothy,  when 
they  were  younger,  for  a  week's  sight-seeing.  It  was 
like  a  delightful  picnic  to  the  girls.  All  the  best  rooms 
were  shrouded  in  holland.  They  took  their  meals  in 
the  library,  which  was  the  Earl's  private  sanctum.  Lady 
Mary  always  said  she  could  not  face'  the  large  dining- 
room.  "  Fancy  Joan  and  Dollie  and  poor  me  at  one 
end  of  that  long  table !  No,  George,  we  are  going  to 
be  comfortable.  We  will  have  cosy  meals  in  the  library, 
and  we  shall  sit  in  Hildegarde's  morning-room.  There 
is  no  need  for  Mrs.  Baddeley  to  uncover  either  of  the 
drawing-rooms."  And  of  course  Lady  Mary  had  her 
way. 

How  Joan  had  loved  those  surprise  visits !  From 
morning  to  night  she  had  been  in  the  seventh  heaven 
of  enjoyment.  Lady  Mary  knew  what  the  girls  of  their 
age  would  love.  She  took  them  to  the  Zoo,  and  to 
the  Tate  Gallery  and  the  Wallace  collection,  as  well  as 
to  concerts  and  theatres'  Once  when  the  weather  was 
fine  they  went  to  TTampton  Court,  and  another  time  to 
Kew  Gardens.  On  Sundays  they  haunted  the  Abbey. 
Dorothy  had  a  perfect  passion  for  the  place. 

"  I  wonder  why  vou  hate  the  season  so  much,  Dor- 


"Will  You  Take  Back  Those  Words?"     63 

cas?"  Joan  would  say  rather  wistfully,  for  she  often 
wished  herself  in  her  friend's  place. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  returned  Lady  Dorothy  frankly, 
"  but  I  do  hate  it.  It  is  the  endless  dressing-up,  I  sup- 
pose, and  those  tiresome  balls.  Just  think,  Joan,  three 
in  one  evening"  sometimes ;  nothing  but  a  crush  of  smart 
people,  and  hardly  time  for  two  or  three  dances,  and  then 
we  move  on  to  fight  our  way  up  a  still  more  crowded 
stairway,  with  fresh  programmes  and  introductions.'' 

"  I  should  not  care  for  three  balls  in  one  night  cer- 
tainly," returned  Joan  thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  I  think  the  first  was  a  dinner  or  reception.  Of 
course  I  had  nice  times  between.  My  morning  rides 
with  father  were  delightful,  and  then  there  was  the  opera 
and  a  good  concert  or  two,  and  on  Sundays  I  had  the 
dear  Abbey." 

Joan  thought  of  these  pleasant  days  regretfully  when 
Craig  repeated  the  Earl's  speech. 

"  I  hope  your  father  will  never  make  up  his  mind 
to  do  that,"  she  observed. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  returned  Craig  dubiously ;  "  it 
is  a  huge  barrack  of  a  place,  and  Dorothy  and  I  hate 
it.  The  rooms  are  too  big  for  comfort,  and  it  needs  an 
army  of  servants  to  keep  it  in  proper  order.  What  is 
the  use  of  keeping  it  just  for  two  months  in  the  year? 
We  could  take  a  furnished  house  for  the  season ;  or  I 
daresay  Uncle  Templeton  would  lend  us  Park  Lodge, 
he  and  Aunt  Miriam  are  not  always  there  in  the 
season." 

Viscount  Templeton  was  Lady  Merriton's  elder 
brother,  and  as  his  wife  was  in  bad  health  and  they  had 
no  family,  the  suggestion  seemed  plausible,  though  Joan 
regarded  it  with  disfavour. 

"  I  do  think  Lord  Josselyn  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
himself,"  she  remarked  severely. 

"  He  has  not  been  a  credit  to  the  family  certainlv," 
returned  Craig  drily.  "  P.nt  there,  poor  beggar,  he's  pay- 
ing the  penalty  of  his  sins ;  he  seems  pretty  bad,  by  all 


04  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

accounts.  No  wonder  the  governor  was  rather  on  edge. 
But  I  was  not  going  to  give  in  to  him  when  he  told  me 
that  I  should  have  to  marry  money.  1  replied  that  the 
thing  was  impossible,  as  the  only  girl  I  wished  to  make 
my  wife  was  absolutely  penniless.  You  should  have 
seen  his  face,  Joan,  when  I  said  that.  I  thought  he 
would  have  had  a  fit.  He  said  something  under  his 
breath  that  I  did  not  hear,  and  then  remarked  in  an 
offended  tone  that  we  had  better  not  talk  any  more  until 
I  had  come  to  my  senses.  It  was  not  exactly  a  com- 
fortable interview.  Of  course  I  knew  all  along  what 
he  was  driving  at.  They  want  me  to  marry  Lady 
Cicely — that  is  why  they  are  always  having  her  down 
here.  They  tried  that  dodge  with  Lady  Marjorie  and 
Josselyn,  and  he  only  laughed  in  their  faces.  But  it 
does  not  amuse  me,"  continued  Craig  grimly ;  "  I  mean 
to  let  them  know  that  I  intend  to  choose  my  wife  for 
myself." 

"  But,  Craig  " — here  Joan  pulled  herself  together  and 
made  a  tremondous  effort — "  do  listen  to  me  a  moment. 
You  must  not  think  me  unkind  or  ungrateful  if  I  say 
that  your  father  and  mother  are  right,  and  that  Lady 
Cicely  is  the  girl  you  ought  to  marry." 

"  So  that's  your  opinion,  Joan,"  in  a  hard  sarcastic 
voice,  "  and  you  are  worldly-minded  like  the  rest  of 
them?  Because  Lady  Cicely  has  a  pedigree  so  long  that 
she  can  trace  her  descent  to  some  old  murderous  Irish 
king,  who,  if  the  truth  were  known,  was  nothing  hut  a 
bloodthirsty  savage,  and  also  has  a  decent  pile  of  her 
own,  she  is  a  suitable  wife  for  me !  "  But,  though  Craig's 
contemptuous  tone  was  hard  to  bear,  Joan  bravely  fin- 
ished her  say. 

"  Lady  Cicely's  good  birth  and  wealth  are,  of  course, 
in  her  favour,  but  she  has  far  more  to  recommend  her 
than  that.  Tf  T  were  not  a  true  friend,  Craig,  and  did 
nol  wish  you  well  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  I  would 
not  tell  you  all  this.  Dorothv  and  I  know  Lady  Cicely 
better  than  most  girls,  and  she  is  as  nice  and  good  as 
she  is  pretty." 


"  Will  You  Take  Back  Those  Words  ? "     65 

"  And  you  wish  me  to  marry  her?  "  Craig's  keen 
incisive  tone  made  Joan  wince,  but  she  did  not  lose  her 
courage. 

"  Your  parents  and  Dorothy  wish  it,"  she  returned 
quietly,  "and  that  is  more  to  the  purpose;  and  I  cer- 
tainly advise  you  to  do  what  they  desire.  I  think — I 
am  sure  you  would  not  repent  it."  But  Craig's  answer 
to  this  took  her  by  surprise.  He  strode  across  the  rug 
that  separated  them  and  took  her  hands  in  a  grasp  that 
kept   her  a   prisoner. 

"  You  are  not  straight,  Joan,"  he  said  angrily,  "  this 
is  a  mere  evasion  on  your  part.  I  will  take  no  such 
advice  from  you.  Look  me  in  the  face  if  you  can,  and 
tell  me  in  cold  blood  if  you  really  meant  what  you  said 
in  the  Abbey   woods  that  morning?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  understand  you,  Craig."  But 
Joan  was  telling  a  fib  there ;  of  course  she  understood 
quite  well  to  what  he  was  alluding,  only  in  her  flurry  of 
mind   she  pretended  ignorance. 

11  That  you  only  cared  for  me  as  a  dear  friend ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  never  said  that,"  she  interrupted ;  but 
either  she  spoke  in  a  low  tone  or  he  was  too  excited 
to  heed. 

"  Yes,  those  were  your  very  words,  Joan.  Do  you 
think  I  am  likely  to  forget  them,  when  they  hurt  me  so 
cruelly?  And  that  you  wished  me  never  to  speak  to 
you  in  that  way  again.  And  I  had  just  asked  you  to 
be  my  wife.  You  said  you  really  meant  it.  Will  you 
take  back  those  words,  Joan?"  And  as  he  said  this, 
and  she  saw  the  intense  anxiety  in  his  eyes,  Joan's  heart 
sickened  within  her.  She  must  be  quick  or  her  resolution 
would  fail. 

"  No,  I  cannot  take  them  back,"  she  said  sadly,  and 
there  was  not  a  vestige  of  colour  in  her  face.  "  I  really 
meant  them,  and  you  must  believe  me — and  forgive  me 
if  you  can." 

Then  he  dropped  her  hands.  "  Oh,  that  will  be  a 
hard  task,  I  am  afraid,"  he  said  bitterly.     "  You  have 

5 


66  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

not  treated  me  well,  Joan.  I  could  have  sworn  that  you 
cared  for  me.  Why  did  you  let  me  think  so?  I  never 
could  have  believed  that  you  would  have  flirted  with 
me,  when  I  love  you  so  truly!"  But  this  stinging 
accusation   roused  Joan. 

"  I  never  flirted  with  you,  Craig,"  she  said  proudly. 
"How  dare  you  say  such  a  thing!  You  were  my  dear 
friend — my  very  dear  friend,  and  I  delighted  to  be  with 
you.  Cannot  a  girl  be  friends  with  a  man  without  being 
accused  of  flirting?" 

"  Forgive  me,  Joan,"  returned  poor  Craig  humbly ; 
"  I  ought  not  to  have  said  it.  But  I  am  nearly  beside 
myself  that  you  should  tell  me  to  marry  Lady  Cicely." 

"  I  only  meant  it  for  your  good,"  replied  Joan  in  a 
choked  voice.  "  I  wanted  to  be  kind  and  to  help  you. 
But  please  go — you  must  go,  Willis  is  waiting  to  shut 
up  the  house."  And  then  Craig  bade  her  a  hurried 
good-night. 

It  was  useless  to  say  more.  He  had  had  his  rebuff 
for  the  second  time.  But  as  he  stood  at  the  hall  door 
looking  down  the  dark  drive,  an  inexplicable  feeling 
came  over  him.  Had  she  really  meant  it,  or  had  some 
of  them  coached  her  to  play  a  part?  He  would  make 
some  excuse  and  go  back  to  the  room.  She  would  be 
taken  by  surprise,  and  perhaps  the  mask  would  drop 
off  if  it  were  a  mask.  Here  Craig's  brow  cleared  a 
little.  If  he  had  followed  his  intention,  he  would  have 
found  Joan  kneeling  by  the  couch  trying  to  stifle  her 
sobs  in  the  cushions,  and  then  surely  the  truth  would 
have  been  revealed  to  him.  But  the  next  moment  he 
muttered  angrily  to  himself,  "  Only  a  dear  friend — a  very 
dear  friend,"  and  the  hall  door  was  closed  behind  him. 
And  after  a  few  minutes  Joan  escaped  to  her  room  to 
indulge  her  grief  more  freely.  They  had  quarrelled ; 
Craig  had  misunderstood  her,  and  she  could  never  set 
him  right.  He  had  said  hard  things  of  her,  and  she 
had   not  borne  them  meekly. 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  not  mentioned  Lady  Cicely — it  was 


"  Will  You  Take  Back  Those  Words ?"     67 

that  that  made  him  so  angry !  And  now  it  will  be  a 
long  time  before  he  will  care  to  speak  to  me  again." 
And  that  night  Joan  felt  as  though  her  heart  were 
broken. 

When  Lady  Alary  came  down  the  next  day  in  time 
for  luncheon,  looking  rather  pale  and  languid  from  those 
hours  of  severe  pain,  she  thought  Joan  seemed  rather 
silent  and  out  of  spirits,  but  she  made  no  remark,  and 
only  chatted  on  indifferent  subjects  until  they  returned 
to  the  morning-room.  But  Joan  was  beforehand  with 
her.  She  had  no  intention  of  keeping  Craig's  visit  a 
secret,  but  at  the  same  time  she  intended  to  say  as 
little  as  possible  about  it.  She  was  far  too  sore  about 
the  matter,  and  no  sympathy  could  heal  the  wound  of 
that  miserable  misunderstanding  which  she  could  have 
so  easily  set   right   with   a   word. 

"  Lady  Mar},"  she  said  quietly,  "  you  will  be  sur- 
prised to  hear  that  Craig  was  here  last  evening.  He 
never  expected  to  find  me  alone,  and  was  so  sorry 
when  I  told  him  about  your  headache."  Then  Lady 
Mary,  who  had  just  taken  up  the  paper,  laid  it  down 
again,    and    her   face    expressed    concern. 

"  Craig !  Dear  me,  how  very  awkward  for  you,  my 
dear !  But  of  course  you  told  him  that  he  must  not 
stay?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  told  him  so  at  once.  But  I  could  not 
get  rid  of  him  for  quite  a  long  time.  His  father  had 
been  talking  to  him,  and  Craig  seemed  terribly  worried. 
I  had  to  tell  him  at  last  that  Willis  would  want  to  shut 
up  the  house." 

Joan's  frankness  was  quite  intentional ;  she  had  no 
wish  to  conceal  from  Lady  Mary  that  the  interview 
had  not  been  brief.     But  she  parried  her  next  question. 

"  Was  that  all  he  said,  Joan  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  he  said  a  good  deal ;  but  you  must  forgive 
me  if  T  tell  you  that  I  cannot  repeat  even  to  you  what 
passed  between  us.  He  made  me  very  unhappy — indeed 
at  one  moment  we  were  on  the  verge  of  a  quarrel.     He 


68  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

said  hard  things  to  me  which  I  do  not  deserve ;  but  I 
think  he  was  sorry  for  them  afterwards.  That  is  all  I 
can  say,  Lady  Mary."  But  though  Joan's  explanation 
was  meagre,  there  was  a  look  of  sorrow  in  her  eyes  that 
told  Lady  Mary  a  good  deal. 

Craig  had  behaved  badly.  He  had  taken  advantage 
of  her  absence  to  repeat  his  offer.  Of  course  he  had 
been  strongly  tempted.  But  it  was  evident  to  her  that 
Joan  had  behaved  well. 

She  had  made  him  so  angry  that  he  had  said  hard 
things  to  her — this  surely  meant  that  she  had  refused 
to  listen  to  him?  For  the  second  time  she  had  played 
her  part  heroically ;  but  it  had  almost  been  too  much 
for  her  strength.  "  If  only  I  had  not  had  that  head- 
ache ! "  thought  Lady  Mary ;  and  then  she  made  up 
her  mind  that  Joan  must  go  to  St.  Breda's  Lodge  as 
soon  as  possible. 


VIII 

"SIGNED,  SEALED,  AND  DELIVERED" 

How  easy  is  the  thought  in  certain  moods  of  the  loveliest, 
most  unselfish  devotion !  How  hard  is  the  doing  of  the  thought 
in  the  face  of  a  thousand  difficulties ! — George  MacDonald. 

We  are  never  without  a  pilot.  When  we  know  not  how  to 
steer  and  dare  not  hoist  a  sail,  we  can  drift.  The  current  knows 
the  way,  though  we  do  not.  The  ship  of  heaven  guides  itself, 
and  will  not  accept  a  wooden  rudder. — Emerson. 

Canon  Leigh  did  not  keep  them  long  in  suspense. 
On  Monday  morning  Joan  recognised  her  brother's  large 
characteristic  handwriting,  which  Lady  Mary  often  said 
was  as  clear  as  print ;  the  tortoiseshell  lorgnettes  which 
she  carried  for  occasional  use  were  seldom  required 
when  one  of  Heath's  letters  was  before  her. 

Joan  changed  colour,  but  she  made  no  remark  as 
she  took  her  seat,  and  the  next  minute  Lady  Mary 
handed  her  an  enclosed  note. 

"  That  is  for  you,  my  dear,"  she  said  with  forced 
cheerfulness.  "  Your  brother  seems  to  have  written  me 
quite  a  long  letter,  but  we  will  compare  notes  presently." 

Joan  had  no  fault  to  find  with  her  letter;  it  was 
brief,  but  perfectly  kind  and  brotherly. 

"  Lady  Mar}-  has  given  me  a  hint  about  the  difficulty,  and 
I  think  I  can  read  between  the  lines,"  he  wrote;  "and  I  cer- 
tainly agree  with  her  that,  under  the  circumstances,  it  will  be 
wise  for  you  to  pay  us  a  long  visit.  Silence  and  I  talked  it  over 
last  evening,  and  she  begs  me  to  give  you  her  sisterly  love, 
and  to  tell  you  that  your  room  shall  be  ready  for  you  whenever 
you  wish  to  come.  We  have  seen  very  little  of  you  the  last 
year  or  two,  so  you  owe  us  a  lengthy  visit.  We  will  do  all  in 
our  power  to  make  your  stay  pleasant,  my  dear,  and  the  children 
will  lie  delighted  to  have  you.  Wanda  quite  flushed  with  pleasure 
when  her  mother  told  her.  '  I  do  love  to  have  Aunt  Joan,'  she 
said,  '  she  is  always  so  nice  and  interesting.'  I  hope  that  little 
compliment   will  please  you.     Now  you   must  write   by   return 

69 


70  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

and  let  us  know  when  we  are  to  expect  you.  I  am  afraid  my 
engagements  will  not  allow  me  to  fetch  you,  but  I  daresay 
Lady  Mary  will  arrange  matters  satisfactorily. — Your  loving 
brother,  Heath  Leigh." 

Joan  handed  over  her  letter  for  Lady  Mary's  perusal, 
but  the  latter  did  not  follow  her  example.  "  It  is  a 
very  nice  note,"  she  observed,  "  and  your  brother's  letter 
to  me  is  both  kind  and  sensible.  Of  course  he  is  ex- 
tremely concerned  on  your  account ;  for,  as  he  says, 
this  sort  of  difficulty  often  leads  to  disunion  and  want 
of  harmony  in  families,  and  that  your  present  position 
with  regard  to  the  Abbey  people  must  be  simply  in- 
tolerable. He  thinks  Craig  has  been  extremely  thought- 
less and  wanting  in  consideration — that  he  ought  not 
to  have  spoken  to  you  until  he  had  had  it  out  with 
his  father.  He  seems  rather  annoyed  with  him,  for 
he  says  it  is  all  his  fault  that  this  trouble  has  arisen. 
I  am  afraid  he  is  right.  Craig  is  certainly  a  very  head- 
strong man." 

"  I  love  him  all  the  more  for  being  headstrong  and 
impulsive,"  thought  Joan ;  but  happily  she  did  not  give 
utterance  to  this  sentiment.  Lady  Mary  was  a  little 
early  Victorian  in  her  ideas,  and  she  might  have  been 
shocked. 

"  Your  brother  seems  to  think,"  continued  Lady 
Mary,  "  that  it  would  be  as  well  for  you  to  fix  as  early 
a  date  as  possible ;  and  if  you  do  not  mind,  Joan,  we 
might  settle  the  day  before  I  see  Lady  Merriton  this 
morning.  She  has  just  sent  me  a  note  asking  me  to 
luncheon ;  she  reminds  me  that  you  and  Dorothy  are 
lunching  at  the  Rectory,  and  that  I  may  as  well  give 
them  the  pleasure  of  my  company." 

1  expect  Lady  Merriton  wants  to  get  you  to  her- 
self for  a  long  talk,"  returned  Joan  quietly.  "  Yes,  dear, 
we  will  fix  the  day  if  you  like  ;  but  there  is  no  great 
hurry,  is  there?  I  shall  have  to  pack,  and  see  people, 
and  say  good-bye :  for  one  cannot  run  jway  for  three 
or  four  months  without  telling  one's  friends." 


"  Signed,  Sealed,  and  Delivered  "        71 

Then  Lady  Alary  hesitated.  Heath  had  begged  her 
to  hasten  on  matters  as  much  as  possible.  "  It  will  be 
very  painful  for  you  to  part  with  Joan,  even  for  a  few 
months,"  he  wrote,  "  and  I  quite  know  her  feelings  on 
the  subject;  let  me  advise  you,  for  both  your  sakes,  noi 
to  lengthen  out  the  agony.  Joan  could  slip  away,  and 
you  could  easily  make  excuses  for  her;  but  nothing  will 
be  gained  by  her  staying  on  at  Morningside." 

"  Your  brother  thinks  that  you  had  better  go  to  them 
as  soon  as  possible,  but  of  course  I  do  not  want  to  hurry 
you,  Joan.  This  is  Monday ;  shall  we  say  a  week  to-day 
— that  would  give  you  plenty  of  time  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  will  do,"  but  Joan's  voice  was 
a  little  hard ;  "  I  shall  certainly  be  thankful  for  a  week's 
reprieve.  You  see,  Lady  Mary,"  and  here  the  girl 
looked  a  little  proud  and  stiff-necked,  "  when  a  person 
has  done  nothing  wrong,  and  has  been  trying  with  might 
and  main  to  set  things  right,  it  seems  rather  hard  that 
she  should  be  treated  as  though  she  were  in  disgrace. 
Of  course  I  know  Lady  Merriton  will  be  anxious  to 
get  rid  of  me :  but  she  is  Craig's  mother,  not  mine, 
and  I  do  not  owe  her  any  duty." 

"  Oh,  Joan,  my  child,  please  do  not  take  that  tone ! 
Lady  Merriton  is  really  very  fond  of  you ;  I  am  sure 
you  have  never  received  anything  but  kindness  and  con- 
sideration from  her."  Then,  at  this  gentle  reproof,  Joan 
came  down  from  her  high  horse. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  how  is  one  to  remember  past 
blessings  when  one  is  so  miserable?  To-day  week — 
Black  Monday — we  will  consider  that  settled.  Now, 
would  you  like  me  to  write  to  Heath?  I  have  just 
time   before   Dorothy   comes." 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  will  be  best,"  observed  Lady 
Mar}-  cheerfully.  "  Tell  him  that  T  will  write  later  on  to 
him."  Then,  as  they  rose  from  the  breakfast-table  and 
Joan  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  Lady  Mary  called 
her  back.  "  My  darling,"  she  said  fondly,  as  she  stroked 
the  fresh  girlish  cheek,  "  I  think  you  are  behaving  very 


72  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

well,  and  sparing-  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  I 
am  very  grateful  to  you,  my   child." 

And  then  Lady  Mary  took  up  her  housekeeping  book 
and  key-basket,  and  settled  herself  for  a  lengthy  inter- 
view with  her  cook-housekeeper,  Mrs.  Hartley ;  for  noth- 
ing less  than  an  earthquake  or  some  elemental  cataclysm 
would  have  induced  the  members  of  Morningside  to  keep 
that  excellent  woman  waiting.  Mrs.  Hartley  was  Lady 
Mary's  right  hand.  She  had  been  with  her  all  her 
married  life,  and  had  insisted  on  following-  her  to  Morn- 
ingside. 

"  It  is  no  use  your  thinking  your  ladyship  will  be 
able  to  do  without  me,"  she  had  observed,  smoothing  the 
front  of  her  black  silk  gown,  "  for  I  have  no  intention 
of  leaving  you." 

"  But,  my  good  Hartley,  things  will  be  very  different 
at  Morningside  from  Roskill  Priory.  My  income  will 
be  less,  and " 

"  I  am  not  objecting  to  a  change,  my  lady,"  returned 
Mrs.  Hartley  firmly  ;  "  it  is  good  for  every  one  now  and 
then.  And  as  it  will  be  a  quiet  place  and  less  work, 
I  shall  be  content  with  half  my  present  salary."  Mrs. 
Hartley  never  used  the  word  wages.  "  I  have  plenty  of 
savings  as  it  is,  and  when  your  ladyship  has  no  more 
need  of  my  services  I  shall  just  retire  comfortably.  But 
as  to  eating  my  bread  and  sleeping  under  another  roof, 
and  taking  service  under  another  mistress,  the  very 
thought  seems  to  disagree  with  me.  But  there  is  his 
lordship  at  the  gate,  and  I  must  not  be  keeping  you 
any  longer,  my  lady."  And  Mrs.  Hartley  beat  a  hurried 
retreat. 

"What  am  I  to  do,  George?"  asked  Lady  Mary 
piteously. 

But  the  Earl's  advice  was  very  clear  and  to  the 
point.  Mrs.  Hartley  must  certainly  accompany  her 
mistress  to  Morningside.  Neither  would  he  hear  of 
curtailing  her  salary. 

'  Your  income  will  be  ample,"  he  said  to  her,  "  and 


"  Signed,  Sealed,  and  Delivered  "        73 

there  will  be  no  reason  why  you  should  not  keep  your 
old  servants  if  they  wish  to  stay  with  you.  There  can 
be  no  better  way  of  spending  money  than  in  rewarding 
faithful  service.  Airs.  Hartley  is  a  trump,  and  1  mean 
to  tell  her  so." 

Joan  had  only  finished  her  note  to  her  brother  when 
she  saw  Lady  Dorothy  coming  up  the  drive,  and  opened 
the  French  window  to  admit  her. 

"  You  had  better  come  in  this  way,  Dorcas,"  she 
observed.  "  I  am  just  going  to  put  on  my  hat.  Lady 
Alary  is  still  busy  with  Airs.  Hartley.  How  nice  you 
look  in  your  new  spring  frock,  dear — grey  always  suits 
you ;  and  the  cowslips  in  your  hat  have  such  a  good 
effect."  But  Lady  Dorothy  paid  very  little  attention  to 
these  complimentary  remarks.  Her  face  wore  a  grave, 
perturbed  expression. 

"  Please  do  not  be  long,  Joan ;  I  want  to  talk  to 
you,  and  Prudence  will  expect  us  by  twelve."  Then 
Joan  gave  her  a  quick  nod  and  ran  off. 

"  Poor  Dorcas,  she  looks  bothered,"  she  said  to  her- 
self;  "  I  suppose  they  have  been  telling  her  things.  Well, 
I  have  not  much  comfort  in  store  for  her.  I  wonder 
what  she  will  say  when  I  tell  her  about  next  Monday. 
I  think  I  shall  leave  her  to  begin  the  subject." 

But  she  had  not  long  to  wait.  Before  they  had  passed 
the  mill  Lady  Dorothy  stopped  in  the  road  and  looked 
at  her  solemnly. 

"  Joan."  she  said  in  a  loud  whisper,  though  no  one 
was  within  earshot,  "  this  is  a  terrible  thing  that  has 
happened !  "  The  tone  and  the  manner  seemed  to  jar 
on  Joan's  overwrought  nerves. 

"  Oh,  don't  make  a  Star  Chamber  matter  of  it,  Dorcas, 
for  pity's  sake !  "  and  Joan  gave  a  husky  little  laugh. 
"  No  one  has  committed  murder,  as  far  as  I  know." 

"  And  you  can  laugh  —  actually  laugh !  "  And 
Dorothy's  face  was  so  tragical  that  it  required  all  Joan's 
strength  of  will  to  refrain  from  hysterical  mirth. 

"  How  can  I  help  laughing  when  you  look  at  me  with 
that  woe-begone  expression?     I  suppose  you  are  going 


74  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

to  tell  me,  like  all  the  others,  that  Craig  has  behaved 
badly;  but  if  you  do,  I  warn  you  that  I  shall  defend 
him  through  everything,  in  my  opinion  " — defiantly — 
"  he  is  jusi  as  splendid  in  his  pluck  and  daring  as  any 
paladin  or  knight  of  old." 

Dorothy  looked  at  her  aghast;  she  could  hardly  be- 
lieve her  own  ears. 

"  You  defend  him  ?  You  think  he  was  right  to  de- 
ceive us  all  and  make  love  to  you  secretly,  when  he 
knew  what  father  and  mother  would  say  ?  " 

"  No,  Dorcas,  excuse  me,  that  is  certainly  not  my 
meaning.  When  I  said  1  would  defend  him,  I  do  not 
refuse  to  own  that  Craig  has  made  a  great  mistake ; 
but  when  you  accuse  him  of  deceit,  I  think  you  are  mis- 
judging him  very  cruelly.  A  man  does  not  care  to  wear 
his  feelings  on  his  coat-sleeve.  Still,  as  Heath  and  Lady 
Mary  say,  perhaps,  under  the  circumstances,  he  ought 
to  have  spoken  to  his  father." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  that,"  returned  Lady  Dorothy 
with  unusual  spirit.  "  Father  is  so  hurt  and  downcast ; 
he  says  he  can  make  no  impression  on  Craig.  He  seems 
to  think  nothing  of  our  opinion,  but  is  set  on  taking  his 
own  way." 

"  I  think  your  father  was  a  little  injudicious  in  his 
management,"  returned  Joan  thoughtfully.  "  You  may 
take  a  horse  to  the  water,  but  if  he  is  not  thirsty  he 
will  not  drink.  It  was  a  wrong  moment  to  tell  Craig 
that  he  must  marry  money — he  was  far  too  sore  and 
unhappy.  If  you  will  only  leave  him  alone  a  little  to 
pull  himself  together,  he  will  come  right  in  time.  Craig 
has  always  been  so  good  and  reasonable." 

Lady  Dorothy  listened  to  this  speech  with  inward 
amazement.  Joan  was  always  full  of  surprises,  but  this 
morning  she  failed  to  understand  her  at  all. 

She  had  come  to  Morningside  brimful  of  love  and 
sympathy  for  her  friend.  If  Craig  had  misconducted 
himself.  Joan  had  behaved  as  well  as  possible ;  she  had 
refused  to  listen  to  him. 

"  She  will  not  have  me,  Dollie.     She  says  she  will 


"  Signed,  Sealed,  and  Delivered  "        75 

never  marry  me,"  he  had  groaned  the  previous  night. 
"  But  I  would  sooner  wait  for  her  ten  years  than  marry 
any  other  girl."  And  as  Craig  had  said  this,  Dorothy 
had  marvelled  at  Joan's  indifference  to  her  old  chum. 
She  had  always  seemed  so  bright  and  happy  when  Craig 
was  with  them,  that  more  than  once  a  doubt  had  crossed 
her  mind  if  this  free  and  unrestrained  companionship 
were  quite  prudent.  "  Supposing  Joan  were  to  care  too 
much  for  Craig?"  she  would  say  to  herself;  but  she 
had  never  guessed  at  the  depth  of  Craig's  infatuation 
for  the  girl.  And  now  Joan  was  stating  her  opinion 
with  the  utmost  coolness.  But  then  Dorothy  was  no 
match  for  Joan's  cleverness.  Joan  was  still  bent  on 
defending  Craig  against  the  harsh  judgment  of  his  kith 
and  kin,  but  at  the  same  time  she  seemed  to  place  herself 
in   strange   remoteness. 

"  Of  course  this  has  made  me  very  unhappy,  Dorcas," 
she  went  on.  "  It  is  sad  indeed  to  be  the  cause  of  all 
this  trouble ;  and  if  I  am  in  any  way  to  blame,  I  have 
certainly  my  full  share  of  the  punishment." 

"  I  am  not  blaming  you,  dearest ;  I  think  you  have 
behaved  as  well  as  possible." 

"  If    my    conscience    would    only    endorse    that " 

began  Joan  ruefully,  and  then  she  checked  herself.  With 
all  her  longing  for  Dorothy's  sympathy,  it  would  not 
do  to  show  her  even  a  glimmer  of  the  truth.  Dorothy 
believed  that  she  did  not  love  Craig  well  enough  to  wish 
to  be  his  wife — that  she  only  regarded  him  as  an  old 
friend.  Well,  she  must  do  nothing  to  remove  this  wrong 
impression.  Lady  Mary  must  be  her  only  confidante. 
To  her  she  had  acknowledged  the  truth,  and  she  knew 
well  that  the  secret  was  safe  in  her  keeping.  So  Joan 
broke  off  her  sentence  and  set  off  a  little  breathlessly 
on  another  tack. 

"  Dorcas,  we  must  not  waste  our  time  lamenting 
other  people's  mistakes,  there  is  something  I  must  tell 
you.  Do  you  know  Lady  Mary  is  going  to  send  me 
away  ?  "  But  Joan  saw  at  once  by  her  friend's  expres- 
sion that  she  had  alreadv  had  a  hint  of  this. 


76  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Aunt  Mary  said  something  about  it  to  father ;  but 
there  is  nothing  settled  surely  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  are  wrong  there ;  it  is  '  signed,  sealed,  and 
delivered  '  like  the  decree  of  the  Medes  and  Persians, 
which  altereth  not.  I  am  to  go  to  St.  Breda's  next 
Monday,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  the  visit  is  likely  -to 
be  a  long  one."     Then  Dorothy's  face  was  very  sad. 

"  Next  Monday — oh,  Joan,  how  terribly  soon !  I 
never  realised  such  a  thing  for  a  moment.  Do  you 
mean  that  you  are  not  coming  back  until  Craig  goes 
to  India?  " 

Joan   nodded. 

"And  if — if  he  were  not  to  go?"  But  there  was 
no  answer  to  this.  Joan  had  turned  her  face  aside  as 
though  something  in  the  hedgerow  had  attracted  her 
attention. 

"  Oh,  Joan,  do  speak !  "  and  Lady  Dorothy's  soft 
eyes  were  full  of  tears.  "  Do  you  mean  that  because 
Craig  has  done  this  you  and  Aunt  Mary  are  to  be 
separated,  that  you  are  to  be  banished  from  your  home 
and  made  miserable,  and ?" 

"  Don't,  Dorcas — what  is  the  use  of  talking  about 
it !  Don't  you  see  the  situation  is  impossible — that  for 
Craig's  sake,  for  everybody's  sake,  I  must  go,  and  the 
sooner  the  better?  Heath  has  written  very  kindly.  He 
says  he  and  Silence  will  do  all  in  their  power  to  make 
me  happy.  But  how  can  I  be  happy  without  you  all, 
and  with  my  dear  Lady  Mary  missing  me  all  day  long!  " 
finished  Joan  with  a  little  sob  which  wrung  Lady 
Dorothy's  heart.  "  There,  for  heaven's  sake  do  not  let 
us  talk  any  more  about  it!  I  shall  have  to  tell  Prudence 
that  I  am  going  away,  and  I  don't  want  to  make  a  goose 
of  myself."  But  Joan's  lips  were  not  steady  as  she 
searched  in  a  little  mossy  nook  for  some  violets  which 
generally  bloomed  there  in  the  spring.  But  her  quest 
was  vain.  "  Some  one  must  have  been  before  me  and 
picked  them,"  she  said  regretfully  as  she  came  back  to 
Dorothy ;  and  then  for  a  time  the  two  girls  walked  on 
in   unbroken    silence. 


IX 

"I  HAVE  LOST  MY  MAIDEN  AUNT" 

The  men  of  real  power  are  always  men  of  one  idea  who  send 
all  the  force  of  their  being  along  one  line ;  and  it  is  possible  for 
any  of  us  to  win  a  true  success  in  life  if  we  will  eariy  choose  one 
sphere  and  persistently  labour  in  it. — Emerson. 

Come  home  to  us  your  ain  friends ;  it's  better  sheltering  under 
an  auld  hedge  than  under  a  new  planted  wood. — Anon. 

The  inhabitants  of  Herondale  village  thought  them- 
selves especially  favoured  by  providence  when  the  Rev. 
Morven  Rutherford  came  to  the  Rectory,  and  though 
five  years  had  elapsed  since  then,  and  they  had  had 
ample  time  "  to  summer  it  and  winter  it,"  as  they  say  in 
Westmorland,  and  had,  in  Celtic  language,  "  tasted  " 
the  full  flavour  of  his  sermons,  they  had  not  yet  changed 
their  opinion.  Indeed,  it  could  not  be  denied  that  the 
Herondale  folk  were  absurdly  proud  of  their  Rector,  and 
that  he  was  the  ruling  power  of  the  place. 

When  a  stranger,  passing  through  the  village,  asked 
to  see  the  church,  a  low  and  unpretentious  building 
standing  at  the  upper  end  of  the  green  entirely  sur- 
rounded by  trees,  the  Rector's  name  was  always  brought 
forward  before  five  minutes  were  over. 

"  No,  there  is  not  much  to  see,  sir,  and  I  would  not 
deceive  you  into  thinking  it  is  a  show  place  " — this  from 
Hiram  Saunders,  sexton  and  verger.  "  No,  there  is 
nothing  ancient  about  it — built  in  1807.  But  we  have 
a  good  warming  apparatus ;  that  is  the  Rector's  doing, 
he  doesn't  hold  with  chilling  bodies  and  only  warming 
souls.  Aye,  he  is  a  gradely  man."  for  Hiram  was  a 
Cumberland  man.  "  No  empty  benches  since  he  came  to 
Herondale ;  for  he  is  a  grand  preacher,  and  folk  come 
from  miles  round  in  their  motors  and  carriages  to  hear 
him.     Perhaps,  if  you  are  staying  in  the  neighbourhood, 

77 


78  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

sir,  it  would  be  worth  your  while  to  come  over  for  a 
Sunday  service.  Oh,  only  just  passing  through — bird 
of  passage  like?  But  thank  you  kindly,"  and  Hiram 
beamed  approval  of  the  coin  in  his  hand. 

Or  it  might  be  some  lady  cyclist,  hot  and  tired  from 
a  long  spin  down  the  dusty  lanes,  where  the  hedgerows 
were  thick  with  the  grey  powdery  dust,  and  the  long 
straws  from  passing  waggons  floated  from  the  lower 
branches  of  the  trees,  who  stopped  at  Susan  Bennet's 
neat-looking  cottage  to  ask  for  a  glass  of  milk. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  kindly  welcome  to  the  drink, 
miss,"  observed  Susan  in  her  pleasant  voice.  "  And  I 
could  not  think  to  be  taking  money  for  a  trifle  like  that. 
And  there  was  something  in  Susan's  expression  that 
made  the  young  lady  hastily  return  the  money  to  her 
purse.  "  My  master  is  cow-keeper  up  at  Herondale 
Farm,  and  we  have  milk  in  plenty  without  paying  for  it. 
I  think  I  saw  you  up  at  the  church  just  now,  miss? 
That  was  the  Rectory,  that  low  white  house.  But  maybe 
you  did  not  notice  it?  The  Rector  and  his  sister  are 
very  hospitable  to  strangers.  If  you  had  asked  for  a 
drink  there,  you  would  have  had  some  of  Mr.  Ruther- 
ford's famous  Hereford  cider  offered  you,  and  you  would 
have  been  asked  to  rest  in  the  cool  porch." 

"  Oh,  I  could  not  have  taken  such  a  liberty,"  ob- 
served the  young  cyclist  nervously.  She  was  a  tired 
journalist,  and  the  village  of  Herondale  with  its  kindly- 
spoken  folk  seemed  to  her  a  veritable  paradise.  The 
little  river  winding  across  the  wide  open  green,  the  two 
bridges  with  their  narrow  low  arches,  the  tops  of  the 
piers  overgrown  with  grass  and  flowering  weeds,  the 
grand  oak  which  was  the  pride  of  the  village,  and  the 
little  white  house  beside  it.  the  flocks  of  geese  cackling 
in  the  sunshine,  the  trim  cottages  and  blacksmith's  forge 
and  post  office,  all  stamped  themselves  on  her  memory. 
Then,  as  she  handed  back  the  glass  to  Susan,  she  pointed 
with  a  smile  to  a  tiny  child  in  a  blue  pinafore  with  a 
mop  of  yellow  curls.     "How   pretty!"   she  half  mur- 


"  I  Have  Lost  My  Maiden  Aunt "       70 

mured.  "  How  I  wish  1  could  sketch  that  for  a  picture ! 
It  would  be  a  perfect  idyll."  For  the  little  creature, 
who  was  too  busy  to  notice  the  stranger,  was  indus- 
triously ironing  some  fallen  and  faded  leaves  with  a 
toy   llat-iron  which  was  nearly   lost  in  the   small  palm. 

"  Mummie,"  she  said  presently  in  a  tired  voice,  "  the 
'ickle  leaves  will  crumple,  but  me  irons  them  hard." 

"  Bless  your  sweet  innocence !  "  exclaimed  Susan  in 
her  motherly  voice.  "  Don't  worry,  Liz;  mummie  is  just 
going  to  iron  all  the  pretty  pinnies,  and  Liz  shall  sit  at 
che  table  and  watch  her."  And  as  Susan  lifted  the 
child  in  her  arms  the  young  journalist  thanked  her  and 
mounted  her  bicycle. 

"  I  shall  describe  that  little  tableau  to  Ralph,"  she 
said  to  herself ;  "  it  might  come  in  handy." 

And  she  was  right.  The  very  next  year  a  little 
picture  at  the  Royal  Academy  attracted  a  good  deal  of 
attention.  "  Falling  Leaves  "  it  was  called.  Liz  and  her 
yellow  curls  and  blue  pinafore  were  there ;  but  the  artist 
had  added  a  kitten  dragging  an  old  sunbonnet  by  its 
string  across  the  leaves.  Mr.  Rutherford  pointed  it  out 
to  his  sister  and  Lady  Dorothy. 

"  That  reminds  me  of  dear  little  Lizzie  Bennet." 
observed  Prudence  sadly.  "  Ah,  the  picture  is  sold, 
Morven !  "  And  she  sighed  again ;  for  the  sweet  baby 
face  no  longer  gladdened  the  mother's  eyes — Susan's 
cherished  darling  had  gone  to  that  pleasant  land  where 
the  leaves  never  fall  or  fade. 

When  the  Rev.  Morven  Rutherford  accepted  the  liv- 
ing of  Herondale  and  Brantwood,  his  friends  told  him 
candidly  that  he  was  throwing  himself  away.  He  was 
a  man  who  would  make  his  mark  in  a  London  parish, 
and  it  was  simply  suicidal  in  their  opinion  to  bury  him- 
self in  a  Surrey  village.  And  perhaps  at  that  time 
Morven  Rutherford  was  disposed  to  agree  with  them  ; 
but  only  to  his  special  chum,  Richard  Trafford,  did  he 
fully  explain  the  matter. 

"  Beggars  must  not  be  choosers,  Dick.     It  is  not  a 


SO  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Lad  living,  and  as  long  as  I  do  not  marry  I  shall  hold 
my   fellowship.     It  is  the  only  thing  to  do." 

"  You  mean  on  your  mother's  and  Miss  Prudence's 
account?"  returned  his  friend  thoughtfully. 

"Well,  yes;  1  must  find  them  a  home,  and  the 
Rectory  has  great  capabilities  for  comfort.  My  sister 
quite  fell  in  love  with  the  place.  The  village  is  very 
peaceful  and  pretty,  and  the  country  round  is  remark- 
ably fine — wide  heathery  commons  and  fir  forests  with 
sandy  lanes  and  wild  ravines  and  winding  paths  bor- 
dered   by   bracken    and    brambles." 

''  Yes,  I  know  the  sort  of  place ;  it  would  be  a 
pleasant  backwater  existence  for  a  tired  worker,  but 
for  a  man  like   you,  Rutherford " 

"  My  dear  fellow  ;  if  one  is  in  earnest  one  can  find 
work  anywhere,  and  under  the  circumstances  it  was  the 
best  thing  to  do."  And  then  Richard  Trafford  held 
his  peace.  He  knew  all  about  the  family  troubles — of 
old  Mr.  Rutherford's  foolish  and  wrong-headed  specula- 
tions, which  had  brought  his  wife  and  daughter  to 
poverty.  After  his  father's  death  Morven's  first  thought 
had  been  to  find  a  fitting  home  for  his  widowed  mother, 
who  was  an  invalid  and  threatened  with  blindness ;  and 
.  two  years  later,  the  poor  woman  died  peacefully 
with  her  son's  hand  in  hers,  the  remembrance  of  her 
1     •  speech  to  him  must  often  have  come  back  to  him. 

"  God  has  been  very  good  to  me  in  giving  me  such 
a  son.  In  spite  of  your  poor  father's  death,  we  have 
been  so  happy.  God  bless  my  beloved  children."  And 
then,  as  she  motioned  them  to  kiss  her,  her  gentle  spirit 
passed  away. 

No,  certainly,  if  it  had  been  a  sacrifice,  Morven 
Rutherford  had  never  repented  it.  "  Tf  one  is  in  earnest 
one  can  always  find  work,"  he  had  said  to  Richard 
Trafford,  and  his  packed  church  and  crowded  services 
pmvcd  his  post  was  no  sinecure.  How  could  there  fail 
to  be  work  when  Aldershot  was  so  near?  Certainly 
the  Rector  of  Herondale  was  a  busy  and  contented 
man. 


"  I  Have  Lost  My  Maiden  Aunt "       81 

The  friendship  between  him  and  Richard  Trafford 
had  commenced  in  their  earliest  Eton  days,  and  in 
spite  of  long  separations,  owing  to  Richard  Trafford's 
frequent  absences  from  England,  it  had  not  cooled  or 
lessened.  Never  were  there  two  men  more  utterly  un- 
like in  character,  temperament,  and  tastes,  and  yet, 
strange  paradox,  no  two  men  could  have  been  more  con- 
genial companions.  Dick  Trafford  was  a  born  loafer — 
even  the  Rector  acknowledged  this.  His  chief  duties  in  life 
were  to  explore  hidden  nooks  and  corners  of  strange 
countries,  and  to  shoot  big  game  wherever  he  could 
find  it. 

Now  he  would  be  on  the  rolling  prairies  in  search  of 
bison,  or  camping  out  in  a  log  hut  in  Canadian  forests 
with  a  rough  settler  or  two.  While  the  novelty  lasted 
nothing  came  amiss  to  him — cutting  down  wood  and 
clearing  brush  were  mere  pastimes.  Then  one  morning 
he  would  buckle  on  his  knapsack  and  bid  his  good  com- 
rades farewell.  "  I  have  a  spinster  aunt  in  England 
— I  dreamt  of  her  last  night — I  accept  the  omen,"  he 
would  say.  "  Dagon,  you  and  I  have  our  marching 
orders."  Dagon  was  a  huge  brindled  bulldog  of  fear- 
some aspect,  who  kept  watch  over  his  master  day  and 
night,  and  had  once  saved  his  life.  He  was  Dick's 
fetich,  and  in  spite  of  his  grim  and  repelling  looks,  he 
was  a  dog  of  gentle  nature,  and  never  picked  a  quarrel 
with  any  one  unless  he  threatened  to  murder  Dick. 
He  was  still  young,  though  he  looked  like  a  canine 
Methuselah,  and  was  often  playful  in  a  clumsy  and 
lumbering  fashion,  and  he  had  a  singular  partiality 
for  kittens.  This  weakness  led  to  a  complication  one 
day.  That  night  Dick  had  dreamt  of  his  spinster  aunt, 
and  the  next  morning  told  his  mates  that  he  was  going 
back  to  the  old  country.  He  had  been  living  with  an 
old  trapper  and  his  deaf  and  dumb  son  in  a  forest  clear- 
ing in  Canada,  and  Dagon  had  conceived  a  warm  friend- 
ship for  a  sandy  cat  and  her  family.  He  came  at  once 
to   his    master's   whistle,    but    he    looked    dejected    and 


82  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

anxious.  A  minute  later  Dick  was  surprised  to  see  him 
slink  back  to  the  cabin ;  but  as  he  reappeared  after  a 
short  interval,  his  master  took  no  notice — for  once  he 
was  lost  in  thought.  Presently  a  weary  "  glump  "  be- 
hind him,  followed  by  a  strangled  mew,  roused  him, 
and  to  his  horror  there  was  Dagon,  hot,  tired,  and 
very  uneasy  in  his  conscience,  looking  at  him  with 
imploring  eyes,  while  a  small  and  unhappy  kitten  dangled 
uncomfortably  from  his  mouth. 

Dick  regarded  him  sternly. 

"  Oh,  you  rascal — you  confounded  old  thief!  If  you 
have  not  stolen  the  youngest  but  one  baby  from  Mrs. 
Sandy!"  But  Dagon  only  dropped  the  kitten  on  the 
ground  and  thrust  his  big,  clumsy  head  against  his 
master's  knee. 

"  Now  what  are  we  going  to  do  with  that  motherless 
brat  ?  "  continued  Dick,  as  the  kitten,  delighted  with  its 
liberty,  rolled  over  on  the  leaves  with  intense  enjoyment. 
"  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  back  two  miles  to  restore 
it  to  Mrs.  Sandy — that  is  like  your  cheek?  And  if  we 
leave  it  here  it  will  be  killed  as  sure  as  fate  by  some 
evil  beast  or  other.  Oh,  you  villain — you  unscrupulous 
and  unmitigated  villain  !  What  do  you  say  ? — that  the 
baby's  weaned,  and  that  Mrs.  Sandy  does  not  want  it, 
and — oh,  that's  your  meaning?"  as  Dagon,  with  a  sob 
of  suppressed  emotion,  took  up  the  kitten  gently  and 
laid  it  at  his  feet.  "  Confound  you  for  an  old  meddler !  " 
And  then,  without  further  talk,  Dick  dropped  the  kitten 
into  his  huge  pocket,  while  Dagon  uttered  a  hoarse 
bark  of  excitement,  joy,  and  gratitude. 

Dick  said  afterwards  that  he  should  write  the  story 
of  the  Canadian  foundling  and  give  the  proceeds  to  the 
Waifs  and  Strays,  but  he  never  did  it.  In  due  time  a 
cab  conveyed  him  and  Dagon  and  the  sandy  kitten  to 
the  house  in  the  Regent's  Park  where  the  spinster  aunt, 
Dick's  sole  remaining  relative,  lived.  His  Aunt  Felicia 
had  already  made  acquaintance  with  Dagon — though  she 
always  called  him  "  that  dreadful  dog "  and  requested 


"  I  Have  Lost  My  Maiden  Aunt "       83 

her  nephew  to  keep  him  at  a  distance — and  now  he 
had  decided  to  present  her  with  the  kitten.  Kittens, 
especially  when  they  become  cats,  are  likely  to  be  in- 
convenient  travelling   companions. 

"  Well,  Emma,"  to  the  respectable-looking  parlour- 
maid who  opened  the  door,  "  you  see  I  am  taking  you 
by  surprise  as  usual.     Where  is   Miss  Graham  ?  " 

"  Miss  Graham !  Oh,  sir,  haven't  you  heard  the 
news?  Mistress  was  married  a  fortnight  ago,  and  she 
and  the  Canon  have  gone  to  Brittany  for  their  honey- 
moon." 

Then  Dick,  too  much  amazed  for  words,  sat  down 
limply  in  the  hall  chair  and  took  Dagon's  thick  head 
between  his  knees.  Aunt  Felicia  married !  Did  ever 
a  maiden  aunt  of  fifty-eight  do  such  an  unprecedented 
thing? 

"  You  had  better  come  into  the  dining-room,  sir, 
and  Mrs.  Murphy  shall  tell  you  all  about  it.  It  is  a 
fortnight  to-day,  and  mistress — Mrs.  Ramsay  her  name 
is  now — was  wondering  if  her  letter  will  have  reached 
you." 

"  No,  I  have  heard  nothing,"  returned  Dick  gloomily. 
"  I'll  just  overhaul  Mrs.  Murphy  and  then  go  to  my 
diggings."  But  when  he  left  the  modest  house  in  the 
Regent's  Park  Miss  Sandy  was  resting  comfortably  in 
Mrs.  Murphy's  ample  lap.  "  I  will  look  after  her,  sir ; 
she  will  take  our  old  cat's  place."  And  then  Dick, 
drawing  a  long  breath  of  relief,  applied  himself  to  the 
task  of  consoling  the  bereaved  foster-father. 

Dick  ate  his  dinner  rather  sulkily  at  his  club  that 
evening.  He  was  ashamed  to  own  even  to  himself  how 
the  news  of  his  Aunt  Felicia's  marriage  had  bowled 
him  over.  In  his  casual,  irresponsible  way  he  had  been 
very  fond  of  the  gentle  little  spinster  who  had  opened 
her  heart  and  home  to  him.  Probably  she  would  have 
opened  her  purse  too  if  Dick  had  needed  it,  but  he  had 
a  sufficient  little  income  of  his  own. 

"  There  will  always  be  a   room   for  you,  Dick,  my 


84  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

dear,"  she  had  said  to  him,  "  a  sort  of  pied  au  terre 
where  you  can  rest  when  you  are  tired  of  wandering. 
It  shall  be  kept  aired  and  warmed,  and  you  can  take 
possession  of  it  at  an  hour's  notice."  And  Aunt  Felicia 
evidently  meant  what  she  said. 

Dick's  treasures  and  trophies  were  all  housed  in  a 
big  roomy  attic,  and  were  carefully  dusted  by  Miss 
Graham  herself.  But  this  time  there  was  no  welcome 
for  the  wanderer,  and  that  night  Dick  did  not  enjoy 
his  pipe,  and  Dagon  slept  restlessly  with  one  eye  open 
because  the  sandy  kitten  was  not  reposing  as  usual 
on  his  huge  back. 

The  next  day  the  Rector  of  Herondale  received  a 
telegram  which  he  took  to  his  sister.  "  Richard  Traf- 
ford  is  in  England  and  has  wired  that  he  will  be  down 
this  evening.  I  suppose  you  could  get  a  room  ready?" 
Then  Prudence,  who  was  adding  up  her  weekly  bills, 
nodded.     She  was  well  used  to  these  telegrams. 

When  Dick  entered  the  Rector's  study  that  evening 
with  Dagon  closely  following  him,  Morven  Rutherford 
thought  he  had  never  seen  his  friend  so  fit  or  in  better 
condition.  He  looked  as  lean  and  wiry  as  a  greyhound, 
and    his   handsome   face   was   sunburnt. 

"  Why,  Dick,  old  fellow,  it  does  one's  heart  good  to 
see  you  !  "    But  Richard  Trafford  regarded  him  solemnly. 

"  My  good  friend,"  he  said  sadly,  "  I  have  come  all 
these  miles  that  you  and  Miss  Prudence  may  sympathise 
with  me  in  my  affliction.  I  have  had  a  blow,  Ruther- 
ford— I  have  lost  my  maiden  aunt !  " 


X 

AN  ANCIENT  IDYLL 

"  Do  you  think  of  the  days  that  are  gone,  Jeanie, 
As  ye  sit  by  your  fire  at  night  ? 
Do  ye  wish  that  the  morn  would  bring  back  the  time 
When  your  heart  and  your  step  were  so  light?" 

"  I  think  of  the  days  that  are  gone,  Robin, 
And  of  all  that  I  joyed  in  then; 
But  the  brightest  that  ever  arose  on  me, 
I  have  never  wished  back  again !  " 

Anon. 

Dick  Trafford's  lachrymose  expression  was  so  droll 
that  the  Rector  laughed  in  his  pleasant  way.  "  Take 
your  own  seat,  Dick,  and  help  yourself  from  the  old 
red  tobacco- jar  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  we  will  tell 
you  all  about  Miss  Graham's  marriage.  I  suppose  you 
have  missed  her  letters?  Ah,  here  comes  Prudence  to 
welcome  an  absent  friend.  Prue,  my  dear,  Trafford  is 
a  little  mystified  about  the  Graham-Ramsay  marriage. 
A  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss,  as  I  often  tell  him,  and 
his  aunt's  letters  have  not  reached  him."  Then  Miss 
Rutherford  looked  at  Dick  very  kindly. 

"  Oh,  dear,  what  a  pity !  Miss  Graham  told  me  her- 
self that  she  had  written  to  you  to  inform  you  of  her 
engagement  to  Canon  Ramsay,  and  that  she  felt  sure  you 
would  be  intensely  surprised.  "  I  think  he  will  under- 
stand everything  when  he  reads  my  letter,  for  I  have 
made  it  all  quite  clear  to  him ;  and  if  he  thinks  me 
an  old  fool  for  marrying  at  my  age,  he  will  just  say  so, 
for  Dick  and  I  always  tell  each  other  the  truth.'  " 

"  That's  so."  P>ut  Dick's  tone  was  gloomy,  and 
Prudence   went   on. 

"  Tt  was  a  very  short  engagement — only  six  weeks ; 
and  of  course  the  wedding  was  as  quiet  as  possible. 
I  saw  Miss  Graham  two  or  three  days  previously,  and 

85 


86  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

she  had  just  written  to  you  again,  as  she  could  not  be 
sure  of  a  letter  finding  you.  She  said  she  should  write 
from  St.  Malo,  and  send  it  under  cover  to  the  Rectory." 

"  But  she  has  not  done  so  yet,  my  dear,"  observed 
the  Rector. 

.Morven  Rutherford  was  not  a  handsome  man,  but 
he  had  a  striking  personality  that  always  made  an  im- 
pression on  people.  He  was  tall  and  athletic-looking, 
his  features  were  strongly  marked,  and  his  expression 
was  good.  But  his  voice  was  his  chief  attraction ;  it 
was  so  deep  and  pleasantly  modulated  that  if  strangers 
heard  it  in  the  street  they  always  turned  round  to  look 
at  the  speaker. 

Lady  Merriton,  who  was  very  cultured  and  had  a 
fine  ear  for  music,  always  said  it  was  a  treat  to  hear 
the  Rector  intone  the  service  or  read  the  Lessons.  "  He 
is  perfectly  simple,"  she  remarked  once,  "  and  there 
is  no  straining  after  effect,  but  he  evidently  realises  the 
meaning  of  every  word.  When  he  read  that  chapter 
about  Joseph  I  could  hardly  control  myself  over  old 
Jacob's  lament :  "  For  I  will  go  down  into  the  grave 
unto  my  son  mourning."  I  saw  poor  Susan  Bennet 
put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes." 

Prudence  Rutherford  was  a  rather  plain  young 
woman ;  she  had  slightly  prominent  teeth,  but  she  had 
bright  eyes,  and  such  a  good-humoured,  animated  ex- 
pression that  people  never  criticised  her  looks. 

"  She  is  a  homely  body,"  Susan  Bennet  would  say, 
"  but  she  is  worth  her  weight  in  gold,  and  a  solid  lump 
of  comfort  when  one  is  in  trouble.  Neither  my  master 
nor  me  will  ever  forget  her  goodness  to  us  when  dear 
baby  died.     She  fairly  cried  over  us  both. 

'  T  shall  never  have  a  child  of  my  own,  Susan." 
she  said  to  me,  "  but  I  think  T  love  all  children  more 
and  more  as  T  grow  older.  And  Liz,  bless  her  heart, 
was  such  a  darling!  Rut  now  she  has  all  the  angels  to 
pet  her  instead  of  her  mother."  T  do  think  that  was 
so  sweet  of  her  to  sav  that." 


An  Ancient  Idyll  87 

Prudence  was  one  of  those  sensible,  satisfactory 
people  who  never  waste  words ;  she  could  tell  a  story 
briefly  and  concisely  without  unnecessary  digressions  or 
voluminous  padding,  and  she  soon  made  things  clear 
to  Dick's  puzzled  brain.  After  all,  it  was  perfectly 
simple  to  any  one  conversant  with  Felicia  Graham's  past 
history.  When  she  was  a  girl  in  her  teens  she  and 
Canon  Ramsay — only  he  was  a  hard-working  young 
curate  then — had  been  engaged.  At  that  time  Felicia's 
parents  had  not  been  averse  to  the  engagement ;  but 
later  on,  when  their  circumstances  became  involved,  Cap- 
tain Graham,  who  was  in  the  navy,  expressed  himself 
rather  strongly  on  the  subject  of  beggarly  curates,  and 
told  his  wife  that  she  was  greatly  to  blame  in  promot- 
ing the  match,  and  that  no  daughter  of  his  should  be 
brought  to  poverty.  When  Captain  Graham  retired  from 
the  service  there  was  an  end  of  all  peace  for  poor  Felicia. 
Suppressed  gout  and  a  naturally  irascible  temper  made 
the  Captain  a  trying  inmate  in  a  small  house,  and  Mrs. 
Graham  had  hard  work  to  preserve  peace. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  as  Prudence  was  doing, 
such  pressure  was  brought  to  bear  on  Fecilia  that  the 
girl,  who  had  always  taken  the  fifth  commandment 
literally,  was  induced  to  give  up  her  lover ;  but  from 
that  day  the  joy  and  sweetness  of  her  girlhood  were 
over. 

"  You  may  tell  my  father  that  I  will  obey  him, 
though  I  think  he  is  very  cruel  to  me  and  Alick,  but  I 
will  never  marry  any  one  else."  And  Felicia  kept  her 
word.  She  was  a  pretty  creature,  and  more  than  one 
desirable  suitor  came  to  the  Captain's  house,  but  she 
would  have  nothing  to  say  to  them.  And  when  her 
father  began  to  bluster  after  his  usual  rough  fashion,  she 
checked  him  with  such  dignity  and  spirit  that  he  was 
as  astonished  as  if  a  dove  had  flown  in  his  face. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  there  is  no  reason  for  this  un- 
seemly language.  I  am  no  longer  a  child  to  be  threatened 
and  coerced.     I  have  obeyed  you  and  given  up  Alick, 


88  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

but  no  power  on  earth  could  induce  me  to  marry  another 
man  while  he  is  living."  And  for  once  in  his  life  the 
Captain  held  his  peace. 

Alick  Ramsay  was  a  long  time  getting  over  the  loss 
of  his  sweetheart,  for  he  had  been  truly  and  sincerely 
attached  to  her.  But  he  was  too  proud  to  make  any 
further  attempt  to  change  her  resolution.  A  few  years 
later  he  married  the  eldest  daughter  of  his  rector,  and 
from  that  day  his  fortunes  mended. 

He  and  Felicia  never  met,  but  now  and  then  she 
had  indirect  news  of  him  when  the  living  of  St.  Saviour's, 
.Margate,  was  given  to  him.  And  she  also  saw  in  the 
paper  the  birth  of  his  three  sons.  Felicia  told  herself 
humbly  that  it  did  not  matter  if  her  own  life  was 
joyless,  as  all  was  certainly  well  with  Alick.  He  had 
a  good  wife,  three  sturdy  boys,  and  plenty  of  loaves  and 
fishes. 

After  her  parents'  death  Indicia's  fortunes  improved 
a  little.  She  had  some  money  left  her,  and  also  a  small 
but  exceedingly  comfortable  house  in  the  Regent's  Park. 
Her  only  brother,  Dick's  father,  was  also  dead,  and 
Felicia,  who  was  otherwise  lonely,  determined  to  make 
a  home  for  Dick.  This  part  of  Felicia's  life  was  cer- 
tainly not  unhappy.  In  a  great  measure  she  had  for- 
gotten the  trouble  of  her  youth,  and  Dick's  erratic  visits 
brought  plenty  of  interest  into  her  life. 

About  a  year  before  Dick  went  off  for  his  last  trip 
to  Canada,  two  events  befel  the  Rev.  Alick  Ramsay :  he 
was  made  one  of  the  St.  Breda's  canons  and  he  lost 
his  excellent  wife.  As  his  three  sons  were  all  abroad 
in  different  professions,  he  was  a  lonely  man.  Then, 
without  warning — by  pure  accident  as  some  people  say, 
or  by  providential  guiding  in  the  wiser  opinion  of  others 
— he  ?md  Felicia  came  face  to  face  in  a  crowded  and 
difficult  crossing  by  the  Mansion  House.  Canon  Ram- 
say had  been  a  widower  a  twelve-month  then,  and  they 
had  not  met  for  thirty-seven  years. 

For   the   first   minute   neither   recognised   the   other. 


An  Ancient  Idyll  89 

Canon  Ramsay  was  too  busy  piloting  the  frightened 
little  well-dressed  lady  to  a  place  of  safety.  Felicia, 
who  was  breathless  and  panting,  could  hardly  express 
her  gratitude  fittingly  to  the  tall,  while-haired  clergyman 
who  had  been  her  angel  of  deliverance  from  enormous 
dray   horses  and   snorting  motors. 

"  There,  you  are  all  right  now,  but  it  was  a  near 
shave !  Good  heavens,  can  it  be  Felicia  Graham  ?  "  in 
a  tone  of  intense  amazement  that  brought  back  the  old 
girlish   flush  to   Felicia's   pale   cheeks. 

Yes,  it  was  Felicia  without  doubt ;  the  delicate  pret- 
tiness  was  still  there — a  little  faded  and  worn  perhaps. 
The  brown  eyes  did  not  sparkle  as  they  used  to  do,  and 
Felicia  had  grown  sedate  and  old-maidish,  while  the 
soft,  mouse-coloured  hair  was  quite  grey  under  the  little 
close  bonnet.  Felicia  was  too  early  Victorian  to  indulge 
in  toques;  she  liked  wide  bows  of  silk  or  lace  under  her 
little  pointed  chin. 

When  Canon  Ramsay  uttered  his  surprised  remark 
Felicia's  startled  eyes  expressed  no  recognition.  The 
tall  stooping  figure,  the  white  hair,  the  deeply-furrowed 
brow  failed  to  recall  the  vigorous,  athletic  young  curate 
with  his  dark,  closely-cropped  head. 

"  Oh,  impossible,"  she  murmured,  "  you  cannot  'be 
Alick  Ramsay !  "  But  he  soon  proved  to  her  that  he 
was. 

Canon  Ramsay  was  staying  in  town  on  important 
business,  but  he  found  time  to  call  frequently  at  the 
house  in  the  Regent's  Park.  Now  and  then  he  would 
take  Felicia  to  the  Zoo  to  listen  to  the  band ;  there  were 
quiet  shady  corners  where  old  friends  who  had  been 
long  parted  could  talk  and  compare  notes.  Canon  Ram- 
say had  much  to  say  about  his  excellent  Charlotte.  One 
day  he  brought  Felicia  a  photograph  which  he  said  was 
lifelike.  Felicia  looked  rather  curiously  at  the  stout, 
handsome  woman  who  looked  so  commanding  in  her 
black  velvet.  It  was  a  kind,  good  face,  she  thought,  but 
she  liked  best  to  hear  about  the  three  sons. 


90  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Canon  Ramsay  had  plenty  to  say  about  them.  They 
were  all  good,  true-hearted  lads,  and  were  doing  their 
father  credit. 

Malcolm,  the  eldest,  was  with  his  regiment  in  India ; 
Walter,  who  had  an  excellent  berth  as  Inspector  of 
Native  Schools,  was  also  in  India ;  and  not  long  before 
his  mother's  death  Basil  had  gone  out  there  as  a 
missionary. 

"  He  is  the  one  who  will  feel  his  mother's  death 
most,"  observed  the  Canon  softly,  and  something  in  his 
tone  told  Felicia  that  this  son  was  his  Benjamin. 

These  confidences  were  very  sweet  to  Felicia,  and 
she  did  not  stint  her  sympathy.  The  revival  of  the 
old  friendship  had  brought  her  a  strange  feeling  of 
happiness.  The  old  sense  of  loneliness  ceased  to  trouble 
her  in  Alick's  presence. 

And  then  one  day  he  spoke. 

"  Felicia,"  he  said,  turning  to  her  quietly,  "  we  are 
growing  old,  you  and  I,  and  we  are  both  lonely.  Why 
should  we  not  be  together  for  our  remaining  years?  The 
world  may  call  us  old  fools  perhaps,  but  it  does  not 
know  that  we  are  old  lovers.  Shall  it  be  so,  dear?  " 
And  though  Felicia  was  too  much  agitated  to  give  an 
immediate  answer,  she  did  not  long  withhold  her  consent. 

"  I  have  loved  you  all  my  life,  Alick,"  she  said  to 
him  the  next  day ;  "  why  should  I  deny  myself  the  hap- 
piness of  caring  for  you  and  your  comfort  because  people 
may  laugh  at  us?  Are  you  sure  that  your  sons  will  not 
object  to  a  stepmother?"  But  Canon  Ramsay  reassured 
her  on  this  point. 

After  this  Felicia  made  no  more  difficulty.  Kenwyn, 
Canon  Ramsay's  house  at  St.  Breda's,  was  ready  for 
its  mistress,  and  Felicia  would  keep  her  house  at  the 
Regent's  Park.  Alick  thought  it  comfortable  and  liked 
the  situation,  and  Dick  could  still  make  it  his  head- 
quarters. Felicia  set  about  her  preparations  in  a  sen- 
sible, middle-aged  fashion.  She  would  not  have  con- 
fessed to  anv  one  with  what  heart-beats  and  flutter  she 


An  Ancient  Idyll  91 

looked  at  the  silvery-grey  folds  of  her  wedding  dress. 
When  Alick  told  her,  as  they  drove  away  from  the 
church,  that  she  looked  twenty  years  younger,  quite  a 
girlish  flush  came  to  Felicia's  face. 

Was  she  really  fifty-eight?  she  wondered,  and  were 
the  best  years  of  her  life  gone?  What  did  it  matter 
after  all !  The  vintage  was  late,  but  the  wine  that  filled 
her  cup  was  still  good ;  the  aftermath  was  rich  and 
abundant ;  and  though  another  woman  had  been  the 
mother  of  his  children,  Felicia  would  have  the  privilege 
of  walking  with  him  hand  in  hand  down  the  slow  difficult 
slope  of  the  hill  towards  the  sunset. 

Dick  drew  a  long  breath  and  filled  his  pipe  afresh 
with  the  Rector's  excellent  tobacco  as  Prudence  finished 
her  story,  but   he   made   few   comments. 

"  My  maiden  aunt  seems  to  have  feathered  her  nest 
very  comfortably,"  he  said  cynically;  "but  I  wonder 
where  I  come  in.  I  must  overhaul  that  room  full  of 
rubbish  and  warehouse  it."  But  when  the  Rector  sug- 
gested that  he  should  settle  down  in  diggings  of  his  own, 
Dick  did  not  seem  to  see  it. 

He  was  rather  thoughtful  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
loafed  about  the  village  in  an  aimless  manner,  talking 
to  every  man,  woman,  and  child  he  met  in  his  usual 
fashion ;  and  if  any  small  boy  seemed  on  the  verge  of 
a  fit  at  the  sight  of  the  bulldog,  he  would  pat  his  head 
in  a  friendly  fashion  and  advise  him  to  fetch  a  kitten — 
any  kitten  would  do,  black,  white,  or  sandy — and  the 
fearsome  beast  would  be  propitiated.  Dick  was  a  little 
puzzled  one  day  when  Jimmy  Turner  received  this  piece 
of  advice  with  tempestuous  weeping.  "  Don't  want  my 
kit  eaten,"  he  sobbed ;  and  with  some  difficulty  Dick 
discovered  that  Jimmy  thought  that  kittens  furnished 
Dagon  with  his  favourite  food.  The  idea  fairlv  shocked 
Dick. 

"  Why,  bless  you  heart,  laddie,  he  loves  them — he 
would  not  hurt  one  for  the  world !  Just  you  watch 
and   see   how   pleased   he   will  be ! "     Then   there   was 


92  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

quite  a  crowd  of  white-headed  urchins  to  witness  the 
novel  sight. 

Dagon  was  in  the  seventh  heaven  after  this. 
Ever)-  cottage  furnished  him  with  a  playfellow.  Now 
and  then  he  would  steal  one  and  appear  with  it  at  the 
Rectory.  But  his  master  always  sternly  insisted  on 
his  returning  it  to  its  rightful  owner. 

When  Dick  Trafford  had  been  at  the  Rectory 
three  days  the  promised  letter  from  St.  Malo  arrived. 
Prudence  took  it  to  him  at  once. 

Dick's  sunburnt  face  reddened  a  little  when  he  saw 
the  handwriting.  It  was  just  such  a  letter  as  a  warm- 
hearted woman  could  write ;  and  it  told  him  all  that 
he  needed  to  know — that  she  had  done  the  right  thing 
and  that  she  was  perfectly  happy. 

I  tell  you  all  this,  Dick,  because  we  are  such  friends,  and 
I  don't  want  you  to  be  shocked  or  sorry  the  least  little  bit. 
Nothing  will  be  changed,  dear.  I  am  keeping  on  the  Regent's 
Park  house,  and  Mrs.  Murphy  will  take  care  of  it.  Your  room 
will  always  be  ready  for  you,  and  if  we  are  not  there  Mrs. 
Murphy  will  do  her  best  to  make  you  comfortable.  The  only 
difference  is  that  you  will  have  two  homes  instead  of  one ;  for 
there  is  a  room  at  Kenwyn  which  is  to  be  called  yours — my 
husband  insists  on  it.  The  house  is  not  small.  He  never  likes 
people  to  use  his  sons'  rooms  unless  absolutely  necessary;  but 
he  tells  me  there  is  one  which  will  fit  up  nicely  for  you,  and  I 
mean  to  see  about  it  as  soon  as  possible.  You  must  promise 
to  occupy  it,  Dick.  Do,  my  dear,  for  the  sake  of  your  ever 
loving  aunt, 

Felicia  Ramsay. 

When  Dick  handed  this  letter  to  his  friend,  the 
Rector  perused  it  with  much   interest. 

"  Do  you  know,  Dick,"  he  observed  seriously  as  he 
replaced  it  in  the  envelope,  "  I  think  your  aunt  is  an 
exceedingly   good    sort  ?  " 

"That's  so,"  returned  Dick  with  a  satisfied  smile; 
and  then  he  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  red  tobacco- 
jar. 


XI 

HERONDALE  RECTORY 

Our  mental  business  is  carried  on  much  on  the  same  way  as 
the  business  of  the  State.  A  great  deal  of  hard  work  is  done  by 
agents  who  are  not  acknowledged.  In  a  piece  of  machinery,  too, 
I  believe  there  is  often  a  small  unnoticeable  wheel  which  has  a 
great  deal  to  do  with  the  motion  of  the  large  obvious  ones. — 
George  Eliot. 

Cheerfulness  throws  sunlight  on  all  the  paths  of  life. 

RlCHTER. 

As  Lady  Dorothy  and  Joan  stood  for  a  moment  in 
the  Rectory  porch,  they  had  a  full  view  of  the  little 
square  hall  with  its  crimson  carpet  and  old  oak  settles 
which  were  the  admiration  of  all  the  Rector's  friends. 
On  cold  wet  days  there  was  always  a  bright  fire  burn- 
ing in  the  old-fashioned  tiled  fireplace ;  but,  except  in 
winter,  the  front  door  was  never  shut  from  morning 
to  evening. 

"  I  am  always  at  home  to  my  friends  and  neighbours 
without  ceremony  or  red  tapeism,"  Morven  Rutherford 
would  say.  And  many  a  piece  of  village  business  was 
comfortably  settled  in  the  Rectory  hall  over  a  pipe  or 
a  glass  of  sparkling  cider. 

As  the  girls  crossed  the  hall,  Prudence  came  through 
a  little  glass  corridor  full  of  flowering  plants  and  ferns 
which  led  to  the  Rectory  garden,  carrying  a  bowl  of 
wallflower  which  she  deposited  carefully  on  the  side 
table. 

"  You  two  dears,"  she  exclaimed  in  her  friendly  way, 
"  you  are  punctual  to  a  moment !  I  have  just  finished 
my  household  labours,  and  was  coming  to  the  Green  to 
meet  you.  Now,  shall  we  go  to  the  workshop  as  usual 
until  luncheon  ? "  But  Prudence  hardly  needed  Lady 
Dorothy's    aod   of   acquiescence.      She   and   Joan   were 

93 


94  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

busily  occupied  in  taking  out  hatpins  and  straightening 
themselves  and  their  stray  locks  at  the  oval  glass  which 
hung  between  the  barometer  and  the  grandfather's  clock. 

Prudence's  workshop,  as  she  always  called  it,  had 
been  her  mother's  room,  and  had  at  one  time  opened 
into  the  study,  but  by  mutual  consent  it  had  been  long 
blocked  up  by  bookcases. 

It  was  a  very  comfortable  room,  low,  but  well  lighted. 
A  tapestry  cloth  covered  the  solid  oak  table,  where 
Prudence  pasted  and  mended  the  broken  covers  of  old 
schoolbooks,  or  repaired  dilapidated  toys  and  injured 
dolls.  In  the  low  oak  cupboards  which  flanked  either 
side  of  the  fireplace  Prudence  kept  quite  a  store  of  doll's 
heads  and  eyes,  and  sawdust  for  limp  and  wasted  limbs. 
How  the  sad  baby  faces  would  dimple  with  smiles  when 
that  miracle-worker,  Miss  Rutherford,  restored  their  be- 
loved Jemina  or  Susannah  with  new  staring  blue  eyes 
and  freshly-rouged  cheeks,  and  an  emaciated  frame  was 
restored  to  its  old  plumpness !  When  little  Tim  Hal- 
loway  received  his  tailless  monkey  with  a  splendid  furry 
appendage  to  it  fashioned  out  of  an  old  stole,  his  awe 
and  delight  deprived  him  of  all  power  of  speech,  and 
hardly  needed  his  mother's  interpretation. 

"  He  is  fairly  beside  himself  with  pleasure,  Miss 
Rutherford.  You  would  never  believe  how  he  has 
been  grieving  for  the  creature.  We  have  had  to  let 
the  kitten  sleep  with  him  these  two  nights,  for  nothing 
else  would  quiet  him.  '  I  wants  my  Jacko — I  can't 
sleep  without  my  dear  Jacko !  '  was  all  his  cry."  Then 
Tim,  hugging  his  newly-restored  treasure  in  his  fat  arms, 
was  borne  off  smiling  like  an  infant  seraph.  No  wonder 
the  children  of  ITerondale  loved  the  Rector's  sister. 

A  comfortable  Chesterfield  couch  which  had  been 
appropriated  to  Mrs.  Rutherford's  use  still  retained  its 
old  position  by  the  garden  window,  but  it  was  seldom 
used  except  by  Prudence's  visitors.  Miss  Rutherford's 
robust  health  and  energetic  habits  rarely  needed  such 
indulgence.     But  it  was  Lady  Dorothy's  favourite  seat. 


Herondale  Rectory  95 

"  Are  you  very  busy  this  morning,  Prue?  "  she  asked, 
as  she  leant  back  against  the  cretonne-covered  cushions 
with  a  sigh  of  content. 

"  No,  not  particularly.  I  meant  to  get  you  both  to 
help  me  cover  the  new  library  books ;  but  there  is  no 
hurry,  and  I  daresay  Mr.  Trafford  will  be  good-natured 
and  come  to  my  assistance  this  evening.  He  is  the 
handiest  man  I  know,  and  he  does  things  so  neatly." 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  had  Mr.  Trafford  here,"  observed 
Lady  Dorothy  in  an  interested  tone;  and  then  Joan, 
who  had  been  silent,  looked  up  with  some  degree  of 
animation.  Both  the  girls  liked  Dick  Trafford  and 
were  on  excellent  terms  with  him,  and  were  always 
pleased  when  he  paid  his  rare  visits  to  the  Rectory. 

"  The  men  folk  are  out  of  the  house  just  now," 
returned  Prudence ;  "  they  have  gone  up  Sudlow  Hill 
for  a  walk,  and  of  course  Dagon  is  with  them.  Mr. 
Trafford  only  arrived  two  nights  ago.  He  was  a  little 
upset  at  hearing  about  his  aunt's  marriage.  Miss 
Graham's  letters  had  missed  him,  so  he  telegraphed 
and  came  down  here  as  usual.  He  and  Morven  have 
been  talking  morning,   noon,   and  night." 

'*  Well,  leave  your  bookbinding  for  the  evening,  Prue. 
A  little  work  will  be  good  for  Mr.  Trafford,  and  neither 
Joan  nor  I  are  in  an  industrious  mood."  Then  Prudence, 
whose  bright  eyes  had  already  noticed  that  both  girls 
looked  tired  and  unusually  grave,  brought  her  knitting- 
basket  to  the  couch,  and  producing  a  half-finished  navy 
blue  comforter,  pronounced  herself  ready  for  any  amount 
of  talk. 

"I  hope  there  is  nothing  wrong,  Dorothy?"  she 
asked  rather  anxiously — "  that  Lord  Josselyn  is  no 
worse  ?  " 

"  I  trust  not.  We  have  not  heard  since  last  Monday. 
But  poor  mother  is  sleeping  badly  just  now.  I  am 
afraid  both  she  and  father  are  worrying  themselves  a 
good  deal  about  Arthur.  There  is  something  else  we 
have  to  tell  you,  Prue.     Joan  is  going  away  next  week 


96  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

to  stay  at  St.  Breda's  Lodge,  and  I  don't  believe  we 
shall  see  her  back  again  for  months."  Dorothy  spoke 
in  a  depressed  tone.  But  though  Joan  flushed  a  little 
at  Prudence's  scrutinising  glance,  she  answered  quite 
calmly. 

"  Dorcas  is  good  enough  to  say  that  she  will  miss 
me;  but  Lady  Mary  thinks  that  I  ought  to  accept  Heath's 
invitation.  I  have  certainly  treated  him  and  his  wife 
very   shabbily  this  year." 

"  But  what  will  Lady  Mary  do  without  you?  "  asked 
Prudence  quietly.  "  Dorothy  and  I  always  notice  how 
restless  and  uneasy  she  is  during  your  absences,  short 
as  they  are.  But  to  leave  her  for  months — oh,  Joan, 
is  it  really  necessary?"  and  there  was  such  understand- 
ing and  sympathy  in  her  voice  that  Joan  faltered  a 
moment.    But  she  was  spared  the  necessity  of  answering. 

"  Dear  me,  Prue,"  exclaimed  Lady  Dorothy  in  an 
annoyed  tone,  "  there  is  that  tiresome  Miss  Emma  Joy 
coming  up  the  front  garden !  If  she  sees  you  she  will 
keep  you  talking  for  an  hour.  Shall  I  tell  her  you  are 
engaged  this  morning?" 

"  It  will  be  very  kind  of  you,  Dorothy.  Tell  her  I 
could  see  her  about  the  same  time  to-morrow."  Then 
Lady  Dorothy  nodded  and  left  the  room. 

"  Emma  will  be  too  much  in  awe  of  her  ladyship  to 
force  her  way  in,"  observed  Prudence.  "  She  is  a  very 
chattering  little  person,  and  often  tires  my  patience." 
Then  her  voice  changed  into  unusual  earnestness.  "  Dear 
Joan,  while  we  are  alone,  let  me  tell  you  how  grieved 
I  am  for  you  and  Lady  Mary — how  truly  I  sympathise 
with  you  both.  No,"  as  Joan  drew  herself  up  rather 
proudly,  "  I  am  asking  no  questions.  I  do  not  need  to 
them ;  Mrs.  Flavel  has  been  here  as  well  as 
to  the  Abbey.  Poor  woman,  you  have  no  idea  how 
distressed  she  was.  She  said  over  and  over  again  that 
you  and  Captain  Bastow  would  never  forgive  her, 
but  that  she  must  do  her  duty.  You  know  what  a 
good-conscientious  sort  she  is."     But  as  Joan  could  not 


Herondale  Rectory  97 

truthfully  subscribe  to  this,  she  wisely  held  her  peace. 

"  I  must  go,  Prudence,"  she  said  under  her  breath ; 
"  Lady  Mary  says  it  it  is  not  possible  for  me  to  remain 
at  Morningside  just  now.  There,  I  have  told  you  this 
because  you  seem  to  know  things,  but  I  do  not  want 
to  talk  about  it.  One  must  do  what  is  right  even  if 
one  has  to  suffer."  Then  Prudence  gave  the  girl's  hand 
an  affectionate  little  squeeze. 

"  Dear  Joan,  that  is  so  brave  of  you !  Yes,  one  can 
only  do  the  right  thing  and  leave  the  rest  with  provi- 
dence. In  this  poor  old  world  of  ours  one  has  to  grope 
one's  way  sometimes,  until  the  light  comes.  "  Follow 
the  gleam,"  as  Morven  says  sometimes." 

But  Joan  remained  silent ;  she  could  see  no  gleam  of 
hope  at  present  and  the  path  looked  dark  before  her. 
Nevertheless,  Prudence's  sympathy  and  squeeze  of  the 
hand  had  done  her  good.  At  least  her  friends  respected 
and  trusted  her.  Even  Dorothy,  who  knew  so  much, 
had  no  word  of  blame  for  her,  and  all  this  was  very 
soothing  to  Joan. 

When  Lady  Dorothy  returned  a  few  minutes  later 
with  her  errand  successfully  accomplished,  she  was  fol- 
lowed by  Richard  Trafford  and  Dagon,  who  both  con- 
sidered themselves  free  of  the  workshop. 

Joan's  tired  young  face  lit  up  with  something  of  its 
wonted  animation  as  she  shook  hands  with  her  old  ac- 
quaintance and  made  friendly  overtures  to  Dagon.  "  I 
hope  he  and  Rascal  will  keep  the  peace,"  she  observed 
anxiously.  But  Dick  assured  her  that  Dagon  regarded 
all  small  clogs  with  indifference  bordering  on  contempt ; 
that  no  dog  was  less  aggressive  or  of  gentler  disposi- 
tion ;  that  his  grotesque  and  repellent  aspect  was  entirely 
misleading,  and  disguised  a  nature  brimming  over  with 
loving-kindness.  Thus  did  Dick  eulogise  the  faithful 
friend  who  had  once  saved  his  master  from  the  assassin's 
knife. 

Richard  Trafford  admired  Joan  immensely — he 
always  maintained  that  they  were  kindred  spirits — but 

7 


98  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

it  had  never  occurred  to  him  to  fall  in  love  with  her. 
Dick  had  had  one  solitary  romance  in  his  wandering 
life,  which  had  ended  disastrously.  About  five  years 
before,  he  had  been  desperately  in  love  with  the  daughter 
of  a  Canadian  farmer,  and  the  attachment  had  been  so 
strong  on  Dick's  part  that  he  seriously  contemplated  in- 
vesting his  little  capital  in  the  purchase  of  land  and 
settling  down  in  Canada  with  Nellie  Montrose  as  his 
wife. 

Nellie  was  a  beautiful  girl  and  she  had  many  lovers, 
but  Dick's  handsome  face  and  powers  of  persuasion  made 
him  a  successful  wooer;  and  if  he  could  have  married 
her  then  and  there,  she  would  certainly  have  made  him 
a  good  wife.  But  business  obliged  him  to  return  to 
England  for  a  month  or  two,  and  during  his  brief  absence 
a  young  farmer  who  had  been  courting  Nellie  induced 
her  to  marry  him. 

It  was  a  bad  business,  and  Dick  never  cared  to 
recall  that  time.  When  he  rode  up  to  the  log  house 
no  "  queen  of  curds  and  cream  "  smiled  at  him  from  the 
porch.  Nellie,  in  her  corn-blue  linen  gown,  with  her 
yellow  hair  and  her  breast-knot  of  golden  buttercups, 
was  in  her  husband's  cottage  not  half  a  mile  away. 
But  Dick  swore  savagely  to  himself  that  he  would  never 
look  on  her  fair  face  again.  "  She  has  fooled  me, 
but  one  can't  revenge  oneself  on  a  woman,"  thought 
Dick,  who,  in  spite  of  his  loafing  propensities,  was  a 
true-hearted  gentleman.  Probably,  though  he  never 
knew  it,  he  had  his  revenge,  for  poor  Nellie  had  reason 
to  repent  that  hasty  marriage.  Bob  Staplegrove  was 
neither  steady  nor  hard-working,  and  there  were  troub- 
lous da\s  before  Nellie  and  her  children. 

Dick's  entrance  into  the  workshop  had  created  a 
diversion,  and  before  long  they  were  summoned  to  the 
hincheon-table,  where  the  Rector  awaited  them.  Lunch- 
eon at  the  Rectory  was  always  a  cheerful  and  informal 
meal,  and  it  was  so  on  this  occasion.  But  though  Mr. 
Rutherford  talked  as  much  as  usual — arguing  with  Dick 


Herondale  Rectory  99 

and  discussing  the  last  new  book  with  Lady  Dorothy 
— he  had  quietly  noted  two  facts — first,  that  Joan  had 
been  shedding  tears ;  and  secondly,  that  Lady  Dorothy 
looked  worried  and  out  of  spirits.  He  therefore  took 
an  opportunity  as  they  rose  from  the  table,  and  the 
other  three  were  looking  at  an  India-rubber  plant  in 
the  dining-room  window  which  was  causing  Prudence 
some  anxiety,  to  ask  Lady  Dorothy  quietly  what  was 
amiss.  "  I  am  afraid  something  is  troubling  you  both," 
he  said  in  his  pleasant  voice ;  "  Miss  Leigh  does  not 
seem  in  her  usual  spirits."  Then  Lady  Dorothy's  eyes 
filled  with  sudden  tears.  Mr.  Rutherford  was  a  friend 
of  the  family,  and  he  was  so  kind  and  sympathetic. 

"Oh,  if  only  I  could  tell  you  about  it!"  she  said 
impulsively.  "  But  Joan  would  not  like  it.  She  made 
me  promise  not  to  say  much  even  to  Prudence." 

"  Then  I  will  ask  no  troublesome  questions.  But 
probably  Prudence  and  I  are  not  quite  in  the  dark ; 
Mrs.  Flavel  was  here  the  other  afternoon."  Then 
Dorothy  looked  at  him  piteously.  • 

"  Oh,  I  see  that  you  know  all  about  it ;  but  Joan 
will  question  me,  and  I  must  be  careful.  This  one 
thing  I  may  tell  you — that  poor  Joan  will  have  to  go 
away  for  some  time,  and  she  and  Aunt  Mary  are  so 
unhappy  about  it.  They  are  doing  it  for  our  sakes, 
and  because  Craig  has  behaved  so  foolishly."  Then  the 
Rector's  face  looked  a  little  grave. 

"  Do  not  blame  your  brother  too  much,  Lady 
Dorothy.  No  doubt  he  was  strongly  tempted ;  and  I 
can  answer  for  one  thing,  that  he  meant  to  be  straight, 
although  he  may  have  tangled  things  a  bit.  Of  course  I 
see  the  difficulty ;  but  I  think  Miss  Leigh  is  acting  very 
wisely  in  leaving  Brantwood   for  a  time." 

"  Oh,  I  was  sure  you  would  say  that.  Poor  dear 
Joan,  I  think  it  must  comfort  her  a  little  to  feel  she 
is  doing  the  right  thing;  but  it  does  seem  so  hard  for 
her." 

"  Doesn't    it    strike    you    that    it    is    a  bit    hard    on 


100  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Captain  Bastow  too  ?  I  confess  he  has  a  good  share 
of  my  sympathy.  But,  dear  Lady  Dorothy,  they  are 
both  young  and  \vc  must  not  lose  hope.  There  are 
hard  places  in  life,  God  knows,  for  most  of  us — difficult 
little  bits  of  climbing  that  test  our  strength  and  manhood 
— aye,  and  womanhood  too.  Many  have  to  pass  between 
lions  before  they  can  enter  their  Palace  Beautiful,  and 
sometimes " — here  the  pleasant  voice  grew  deep  and 
vibrating — "  sometimes,  dear  friend,  the  lions  are  not 
chained." 

Something  in  the  Rector's  tone  seemed  to  thrill  Lady 
Dorothy,  as  though  there  were  some  occult  meaning  in 
his  words.  Then,  as  she  met  his  quiet  kindly  glance, 
she  thought  it  must  be  her  fancy. 

"  I  suppose  one  must  try  to  make  the  best  of  it," 
she   said   simply. 

"  I  think  that  would  be  wisest,"  he  said,  smiling  at 
her.     And  at  this  moment  the  others  rejoined  them. 

The  girls  did  not  stay  long  after  this.  Joan  had 
promised  to  be  back  for  tea  and  Lady  Dorothy  had  an 
engagement.  The  two  gentlemen  walked  across  the 
Green  with  them,  and  before  they  parted  Mr.  Rutherford 
found  an  opportunity  of  saying  a  word  to  Joan. 

"  I  hear  that  I  am  to  lose  one  of  my  workers,"  he 
said,  as  they  crossed  the  little  bridge.  "  I  need  not 
tell  you  that  all  your  Herondale  friends  will  miss  you 
sadly." 

"  You  and  Prudence  are  very  kind,"  returned  Joan 
in  a  low  voice.  "  I  shall  not  stay  away  longer  than  I 
can  help,  you  may  be  sure  of  that." 

"  Lady  Dorothy  seemed  to  think  that  you  would  be 
away  for  three  or  four  months.  I  heard  her  tell  Mr. 
TrafTord  so." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"  Then  we  must  do  all  in  our  power  to  cheer  Lady 
Mary  up.  After  all.  Miss  Leigh,  it  is  an  ill  wind  that 
blows  no  one  any  good — your  brother  will  be  the  gainer." 
But  Joan  made  no  audible  response  to  this.     They  had 


Heron  dale  Rectory  101 

paused  here,  for  the  Rector  was  on  his  way  to  the  school. 
Lady  Dorothy  and  her  escort  were  walking  slowly 
towards  them. 

"  I  must  leave  you  now,"  he  said,  putting  out  his 
hand  to  the  girl.  "If  I  do  not  see  you  again  before 
you  go,  you  will  let  me  wish  you  God-speed  now,  and 
tell  you  how  gladly  we  shall  welcome  you  back  ?  "  and 
his  firm,  kind  pressure  was  very  comforting  to  Joan. 

He  had  not  said  much  to  her,  but  something  in  his 
tone  and  manner  seemed  to  signify  that  he  understood 
and  approved  her  course  of  action.  As  soon  as  they 
were  alone  Lady  Dorothy  linked  her  arm  in  Joan's. 

"  I  hope  Mr.  Rutherford  was  nice  to  you,  dear?  "  she 
said  affectionately. 

Joan  nodded. 

"  He  is  never  anything  else,  Dorcas ;  and  I  think  he 
is  sorry  to  lose  me.  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  be  at  the 
Rectory  again  before  I  go."  And  then  by  tacit  consent 
the  subject  dropped,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the  walk 
Lady  Dorothy  talked  chiefly  of  their  increasing  anxiety 
on  Lord  Josselyn's  account. 


XII 

"IT  IS  THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  SERPENT" 

Just  a  path  that  is  sure,  thorny  or  not     .     .    . 

Just   plain  duty  to  know,   irksome  or  not, 

And  truer  and  better  to  grow  in  doing  the  duty  I  know. 

Just  to  keep  battling  on,   weary  or   nol  ; 

Sure  of  the  Right  aione  as  I  keep  battling  on, 

True  to  my  thought. 

VValtek  Smith. 

Joan  had  other  visits  to  pay.  She  and  Lady  Mary 
had  a  good  many  friends  in  Atherton  and  some  of  the 
neighbouring  villages.  As  there  were  few  houses  within 
walking  distance,  Lady  Mary  proposed  that  they  should 
drive  to  them  together. 

"  You  know  I  owe  Mrs.  Ogilvie  and  the  Farquharsons 
a  visit,"  she  said  by  way  of  excuse.  But  in  reality  she 
conld  hardly  bear  the  girl  out  of  her  sight  those  lasl 
few  clays,  and  Joan  was  far  too  thankful  for  her  com- 
pany to  offer  any  objection  to  this.  1  ,ady  Alary,  with 
all  her  other  worldlinesses,  had  plenty  of  savoir-faire 
and  tact;  she  knew  how  to  pilot  her  young  companion 
across  any  awkward  bit  of  road.  When  Mrs.  Ogilvie. 
a  good-natured,  rather  stupid  woman,  asked  curious 
questions  which  made  Joan's  cheeks  burn.  Lady  Mars- 
changed  the  subject  so  deftly  that  no  one  suspected  her 
cleverness.  But  she  was  very  severe  on  Mrs.  Ogilvie 
afterwards. 

"  She  is  an  amiable,  good-hearted  woman,"  she  ob- 
served, as  the  carriage  turned  out  of  the  gate,  "  but  it 
is  a  pity  that  she  is  not  better  bred.  Tt  is  the  hair  on 
the  foot,  as  my  dear  Sir  Martin  used  to  say,  and  every 
one  knows  that  she  is  not  her  husband's  equal."  And 
Joan  assented  to  this  quite  warmly,  for  she  and  the 
courtly  old  General  were  on  excellent  terms. 

Joan  had  one  ordeal  to  face — the  Thursday  dinner 

102 


"  It  is  the  Wisdom  of  the  Serpent "       103 

at  the  Abbey.  Lady  Alary  had  brought  her  a  gracious 
message  from  Lady  Merriton,  that  she  would  expect 
to  see  her  as  usual. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  she  really  wishes  me  to  go?" 
asked  Joan  anxiously.  And  Lady  Mary  had  assured 
her  that  nothing  could  have  been  kinder  than  Lady 
Merriton's   manner. 

"  She  seems  very  much  pleased  with  you,"  she  con- 
tinued, looking  fondly  at  her  favourite ;  for  nothing 
gave  her  greater  pleasure  than  to  say  smooth,  comfort- 
able things  when  she  could  do'  so  truthfully.  But  if 
this  were  impossible  she  always  held  her  peace,  which 
proved  not  only  her  wisdom  but  her  real  Christianity,  it 
being  a  known  fact  that  we  cannot  love  our  neighbour 
and  do  him  mischief  at  one  and  the  same  time. 

Joan  showed  no  special  gratitude  for  Lady  Merriton's 
kind  message.  She  had  not  seen  her  for  more  than 
ten  days,  for  the  Countess  rarely  came  to  Morningside 
except  by  special  invitation. 

"  If  only  one  could  get  a  sick  headache  when  one 
needed  an  excuse !  "  she  said  rather  ungratefully  to  Lady 
Dorothy  on  Thursday  morning.  But  her  friend  looked 
a  little  hurt. 

"  Oh,  Joan,  what  a  thing  to  say,  when  we  all  mean 
to  be  so  kind  to  you !  "  But  Joan  was  not  in  the  least 
penitent. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  Dorcas ;  I  perfectly  dread  the  even- 
ing. I  feel  bristling  all  over  with  nerves  like  a  fretful 
porcupine.  I  know  I  shall  contradict  your  mother  or 
do  something  dreadful." 

"  But,  my  dear  child,  why  should  you  put  yourself 
into  such  a  state?  Of  course  Craig  will  not  be  there — 
mother  has  taken  good  care  of  that."  But  this  was 
only  like  flinging  the  proverbial  red  rag  in  the  eyes  of 
an   infuriated  young  bull. 

"  Tf  Craig  were  to  be  there,  nothing  would  induce  me 
to  cross  the  threshold  of  the  Abbey !  "  returned  Joan 
shortly,  and  she  walked  away  without  another  word. 


104  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Dorothy  had  said  the  wrong  thing.  "  Did  they  think 
— did  they  really  think  that  she  expected  to  meet  him !  " 
thought  Princess  Joan,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

Lady  Dorothy  wisely  took  no  offence  at  Joan's 
brusqucrie  and  snappishness,  which  she  knew  were  noth- 
ing but  nervous  irritability. 

"  Poor  dear  Joan,"  she  sighed,  as  she  walked  back  to 
the  Abbey.  "  I  shall  have  no  one  but  Prudence,"  she 
thought  regretfully.  And  then  she  remembered  that 
her  mother  had  invited  Lady  Cicely  to  stay  with  them 
until  they  went  up  to  town.  She  had  forgotten  to  mention 
this  to  Joan. 

Joan  tried  to  walk  off  her  restlessness  by  taking 
Rascal  for  a  long  walk,  but  she  only  succeeded  in  tiring 
herself.  As  for  Rascal,  he  burrowed  so  deeply  in  a  rab- 
bit-hole that  his  mistress  was  obliged  to  drag  him  out 
by  his  hind  legs,  and  his  appeara-nce  was  so  disgraceful 
that  he  was  consigned  to  the  stable  by  way  of  punish- 
ment. 

"  One  good  thing  is,  there  are  no  rabbit-holes  at  St. 
Breda's,  and  Rascal  will  have  fewer  temptations  to  mis- 
behave," she  observed  to  Lady  Mary  as  they  sat  at 
luncheon.  "  Ra  will  have  to  behave  more  rationally  if 
Silence  is  to  regard  him  with  any  degree  of  favour.  I 
fancy  from  something  Heath  said  in  his  letter  that  she 
is  not  quite  pleased  that  I  insist  on  bringing  him." 

"  You  know,  Joan,  that  I  advised  you  to  leave  him 
under  my  care."     But  the  girl  shook  her  head. 

"  If  I  go,  Ra  must  go  too ;  T  made  Heath  under- 
stand that.  We  should  both  be  miserable  without  each 
other."  And  Joan's  manner  was  so  decided  that  Lady 
Mary  said  no  more. 

As  soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  Joan  went  off  to 
a  little  upstairs  sanctum  of  hers,  where  she  kept  her 
books  and  treasures,  to  pack  up  some  of  her  cherished 
possessions  which  she  wished  to  take  with  her ;  and 
she  was  still  busy  when  the  arrival  of  visitors  summoned 
her  to  the  drawing-room.     Some  old   friends  of  Lady 


"  It  is  the  Wisdom  of  the  Serpent "       105 

Mary's  had  driven  over  from  Michael's  End,  and  as  the 
horses  required  rest,  they  remained  for  nearly  two  hours, 
and  then  there  was  only  time  to  dress  for  the  Ahhey. 

A  little  later,  as  Joan  stood  before  her  glass  in  her 
white  dress,  there  was  a  light  tap  at  her  door  and  Lady 
Mary  entered.  As  there  were  no  other  guests  dining 
at  the  Abbey,  Joan  was  rather  surprised  to  see  that 
she  wore  her  heliotrope  velvet,  but  it  never  entered 
her  mind  that  Lady  Mary  had  selected  it  because  it 
was  the  gown  the  girl  liked  best.  The  dark  rich  tints 
of  the  velvet,  with  its  trimming  of  priceless  lace,  always 
gave  her  a  regal  appearance,  and  Joan  looked  at  her 
with  admiring  eyes.  But  before  she  could  speak  Lady 
Mary  put  a  morocco  case  in  her  hand. 

"  I  want  you  to  wear  this  to-night,  Joan.  It  is  a 
little  parting  gift,  a  keepsake,  which  I  know  you  will 
prize  all  the  more  because  I  wore  it  when  I  was 
younger." 

But  as  Joan  opened  the  case  her  eyes  were  wide 
with  surprise.  "  Oh,  Lady  Mary,  you  cannot  mean  me 
to  keep  this  !  Your  beautiful  diamond  and  sapphire  cross, 
which  Dorothy  always  admires  so !  Oh,  what  will  she 
and  Lady  Merriton  say?"  But  Lady  Mary  only  smiled 
at  the  girl's  consternation. 

"  It  was  one  of  my  dear  Sir  Martin's  gifts  to  me," 
she  said  softly.  "  He  generally  gave  me  jewellery  on 
the  anniversary  of  our  wedding  day  or  on  my  birthday. 
I  always  meant  to  leave  this  to  you,  Joan;  but  yester- 
day, as  I  was  turning  out  my  jewel-case  with  Dunlop, 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  you  should  have  it  now. 
You  need  not  hesitate  to  take  it,  my  child.  You  are 
not  robbing  Dorothy.  There  is  plenty  for  her  and  Craig's 
wife  when  he  marries.  Besides,  Dorothy  will  have  her 
share  of  her  mother's  jewels." 

Joan's  eyes  sparkled  with  something  like  their  old 
brightness  as  she  lifted  the  little  cross  from  the  case. 
It  was  attached  to  a  twisted  gold  necklet  of  foreign 
workmanship.     Then,  as  Lady   Mary  clasped  it  round 


106  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

the  girl's  neck,  Joan's  fresh  young  lips  gave  her  silent 
thanks. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  are  pleased,  dear!  It  certainly 
looks  very  nice." 

"  I  think  I  like  it  best  of  all  your  things,"  returned 
Joan.  "  But,  dear,  dearest  Lady  Mary,  I  feel  as  though 
I  do  not  deserve  it.  I  have  been  so  horrid  and  disa- 
greeable, and  have  given  you  so  much  trouble."  But 
her  friend  only  smiled. 

"  If  we  were  only  to  be  rewarded  according  to  our 
deserts,  I  am  afraid  some  of  us  would  be  in  a  sad  plight. 
There,  I  hear  the  carriage,  and  Dunlop  will  be  waiting 
with  my  wrap,  and  we  must  not  be  late."  But  as  Joan 
went  to  the  wardrobe  in  search  of  her  cloak,  her  eyes 
were  dim  with  tears.  Lady  Mary's  loving  generosity 
had  touched  her  to  the  heart. 

This  little  episode  had  done  Joan  good,  and  as  she 
followed  Lady  Mary  into  the  Abbey  drawing-room  her 
expression  was  far  more  natural.  And  as  Lady  Mer- 
riton's  greeting  was  as  pleasant  and  friendly  as  usual, 
there  was  no  opening  for  even  her  sensitive  pride  to 
take  offence.  The  Earl's  shake  of  the  hand,  too,  was 
as  cordial  as  ever.  And  though  Lady  Dorothy  at  once 
noticed  the  sapphire  cross,  there  was  nothing  but  sym- 
pathetic appreciation  in  her  tone.  Lady  Dorothy  never 
coveted  her  neighbour's  possessions,  and  she  was  singu- 
larly indifferent  to  personal  ornaments.  She  preferred 
her  friends  to  give  her  books  and  pictures. 

"How  nice  of  Aunt  Mary  to  give  you  that!"  she 
said  in  quite  a  pleased  voice.  "  And  it  looks  so  well 
with  your  white  silk.  Mother  and  I  always  admired 
it  so.     But  Aunt  Mary  has  not  worn  it  for  years." 

"  No,  it  is  too  young  and  girlish  for  me,  Dollie," 
observed  her  aunt,  smiling.  And  then  Lady  Merriton 
beckoned  Joan  to  the  seat  next  her,  and  she  too  had  n 
pleasant  word  or  two  to  say  about  the  girl's  now  ac- 
quisition :  and  this  well-bred  kindness  softened  Joan  all 
the  more    though  inwardly  she  was  still  on  guard. 


"  It  is  the  Wisdom  of  the  Serpent "       107 

Lady  Merriton  had  been  a  society  beauty  when  the 
Earl  had  married  her ;  and  though  the  brilliancy  of 
her  youthful  bloom  had  long  ago  faded  with  the  trials 
and  sorrows  of  life,  and  her  finely-proportioned  figure 
had  become  a  little  too  ample  of  late  years,  she  was 
still  a  very  good-looking  woman,  and  her  husband 
admired  her  as  much  as  ever. 

"  Few  women  can  compare  with  my  wife  and  sister 
in  looks,"  he  said  once  to  an  old  friend  who  had  been 
complimenting  him  on  Lady  Merriton's  appearance  in 
her  court  dress ;  and  the  old  friend,  who  had  known 
them  both  from  childhood,  assented  to  this. 

"  But  Mary  Boyle  wears  the  best,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  Her  temperament  is  calmer,  and  since  her  widowhood 
her  life  has  been  a  sort  of  backwater  existence.  Poor 
dear  Hildegarde  has  never  got  over  the  loss  of  those 
boys.     That  sort  of  trouble  ages  a  woman." 

Lady  Merriton  always  wore  her  old  gowns  in  the 
evening,  unless  they  had  guests  staying  at  the  Abbey 
or  some  of  the  county  people  drove  over  to  dinner ; 
and  she  insisted  that  Dorothy,  who  was  careless  in 
such  matters,  should  follow  her  example. 

Privately  she  thought  Lady  Mary's  velvet  dress  a 
piece  of  unwarrantable  extravagance ;  but  she  would 
not  have  hinted  at  such  a  thing  for  the  world,  except  to 
point  a  moral  to  her  daughter. 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  her  not  to  dress  so  grandly, 
mother?"  asked  Dorothy.  "Aunt  Mary  is  so  good- 
natured  and  never  minds  anything  that  one  says."  But 
the  Countess  seemed  quite  shocked  at  the  idea. 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  take  such  a  liberty,"  she 
said  gravely.  "  I  daresay  your  aunt  would  take  my 
interference  in  good  part,  but  none  the  less  she  would 
resent  it  in  her  quiet  way.'  ' 

And  Lady  Merriton  was  right.  In  spite  of  hei 
gentleness,  Lady  Mary  would  have  regarded  any  such 
remark  on  her  sister-in-law's  part  as  uncalled  for  and 
not  in  srood  form. 


108  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

To  Joan's  surprise,  the  hour  spent  at  the  dinner- 
table  passed  as  smoothly  and  pleasantly  as  usual. 
There  were  no  awkward  subjects  broached,  and  Craig's 
name  was  only  mentioned  once  by  Dorothy.  Joan,  who 
was  a  little  bewildered  by  a  sense  of  loss  and  unhap- 
piness,  felt  as  though  she  must  be  dreaming  some  evil 
dream.  These  kind  people  were  not  treating  her  as 
though  she  were  a  culprit.  But  she'  failed  to  see  the 
meaning  which  they  so  delicately  tried  to  convey  to 
her,  or  to  realise  how  grateful  they  were  to  her  for 
refusing  Craig's  offer. 

Later  on  she  understood  more  clearly.  When  they 
returned  to  the  drawing-room,  Lady  Merriton  left 
Dorothy  to  entertain  her  aunt  and  invited  Joan  to  occupy 
the  other  end  of  the  couch. 

"  I  shall  not  see  much  of  you  after  this  evening,"  she 
said  in  quite  a  motherly  tone,  "  so  we  may  as  well  have 
a  little  talk  now.  Lady  Mary  tells  me  that  she  and 
Dunlop  are  going  up  to  town  with  you  on  Monday 
morning." 

"  Yes,  it  is  so  kind  of  her.  But  I  could  have  man- 
aged   quite   well    with    Dunlop." 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  your  brother  could  not  have 
fetched  you.  You  see,  Lady  Mary  and  I  are  a  little 
behind  the  times.  We  have  an  objection  to  girls 
travelling  alone.  Of  course  you  young  people  laugh  at 
us  and  say  chaperons  are  going  out  of  fashion.  But  I 
am  conservative  and  cling  to  my  own  ideas." 

Joan  smiled  ;  she  was  not  inclined  to  enter  into  an 
argument  on  the  subject.  Lady  Merriton  was  rather 
an  autocrat,  and  she  was  apt  to  resent  contradiction.  If 
Dorothy  differed  in  opinion  from  her  mother,  she  was 
generally  told  that  at  her  age  girls  ought  not  to  be  so 
opinionated.  "  I  should  think  my  year?  must  have 
given  me  some  experience  and  knowledge  of  the  world," 
she  would  sav  severely,  "  unless  you  consider  your  mother 
a  fool!"  And  this  crushing  remark  certainly  spoilt 
the  argument. 


"  It  is  the  Wisdom  of  the  Serpent "       109 

But  on  this  occasion  Joan  declined  to  tread  on  the 
thin  ice,  and  Lady  Merriton  went  on  placidly. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  my  dear  Joan,  that  we  shall 
miss  you  sadly.  Dorothy  was  quite  upset  at  the  idea 
of  losing  you  for  so  long.  I  don't  know  whether  to  be 
more  sorry  for  her  or  for  Lady  Mary." 

"  Lady  Mary  will  miss  me  most,"  returned  Joan, 
putting  up  her  hand  to  her  little  cross,  and  her  voice 
was  rather  unsteady.  "  You  see,  we  are  so  much  to- 
gether, and  the  house  will  seem  so  lonely." 

"  Dorothy  and  I  have  been  talking  about  that," 
returned  Lady  Merriton,  "  and  we  have  made  rather  a 
nice  little  plan.  You  know  we  are  going  up  to  town 
later  this  year.  The  fact  is  " — in  a  burst  of  unusual 
confidence — "  we  are  too  much  worried  about  poor 
Josselyn's  condition  to  be  in  the  mood  for  gaiety :  and 
as  Lady  Cicely  is  coming  to  us "  Then  an  un- 
comfortable flush  came  to  Joan's  cheek. 

"  Dorothy  never  told  me  she  was  coming,"  she  said 
in  a  surprised  voice. 

"  Did  she  not  ?  Very  likely  you  were  talking  of 
other  things  and  it  slipped  her  memory.  Cicely's  visit 
fits  in  rather  nicely  just  now,  as  her  grandmother  has 
just  died  and  they  are  not  going  to  their  town  house 
this  season ;  so  she  is  quite  delighted  to  come  to  us  for 
a  few  weeks." 

"  I  am  glad  for  Dorothy's  sake,"  replied  Joan  in  a 
dull  voice.     But  inwardly  she  was  saying  to  herself: 

"  How  soon — how  very  soon !  But  it  is  the  wisdom 
of  the  serpent.  Craig  is  so  unhappy  that  a  little  kind- 
ness and  sympathy  will  win  his  gratitude.    And  then 

Oh  yes,  how  is  he  to  stand  up  against  them  all !  "  And 
in  spite  of  her  effort  a  low  shuddering  sigh  escaped 
Joan's  lips.  But  though  Lady  Merriton  heard  it,  she 
said  in  the  same  cheerful  voice: 

"  Yes,  we  have  made  our  plan.  Dorothy  means  to 
go  over  to  Morningside  every  afternoon  about  tea-time 
and  spend  at  least  an  hour  with  Lady  Mary.     And  she 


110  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

must  come  to  us  on  Tuesdays  as  well  as  Thursdays, 
we  shall  insist  on  that.  Oh,  we  shall  cheer  her  amongst 
us ;  and,  after  all,  five  months  will  soon  pass." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  so."  But  Joan's  tone  expressed 
such  despondency  and  weariness  that  Lady  Merriton 
felt  a  little  troubled. 

"  St.  Breda's  is  such  an  interesting  place,"  she  went 
on,  "  and  I  hear  Canon  Leigh's  house  is  quite  delightful. 
It  will  be  a  pleasant  change  for  you  to  share  your 
brother's  home  life  for  a  little ;  for,  as  I  sometimes  say 
to  Dorothy,  Morningside  must  be  rather  quiet  for  a 
lively  girl." 

"  Oh,  no — no,  I  am  never  dull  there — not  for  an 
instant !  It  is  the  dearest  home  a  girl  could  have,  and 
I  have  been  so  happy  " — here  the  tears  started  to  Joan's 
eyes ;  and  as  Lady  Merriton's  large  soft  hand  covered 
one  of  hers,  the  little  cold  fingers  fluttered  helplessly  in 
that  motherly  grasp. 

"  My  dear  child,  if  you  knew  how  we  all  grieve  for 
the  necessity  of  your  going!  Oh,  the  mischief  caused 
by  that  foolish,  reckless  boy  of  mine !  Joan,  let  me  say 
this  before  you  go.  My  husband  and  I  think  you  have 
behaved  so  well.  So  far  from  disappointing  us  or  be- 
traying our  trust,  your  conduct  has  been  quite  admirable. 
You  have  entered  into  our  feelings  with  a  delicacy  and 
sense  of  propriety  quite  surprising  at  your  age."  But 
Joan  tore  her  hand  away  and  started  up  from  the  couch ; 
she  could  bear  no  more. 

"  Don't,  please,  Lady  Merriton !  If  you  knew  all, 
you  would  not  praise  me.  I  have  not  been  as  good  as 
you  think,  or  I  should  not  be  so  unhappy.  But  I  wish  to 
do  right,  and  I  think  you  may  trust  me."  But  at  this 
crucial  moment  the  door  was  flung  open  in  rather  an 
impetuous  manner  and  Craig  walked  into  the  room. 


XIII 

CRAIG  HAS  HIS  INNINGS 

The  courage  by  which  love,  like  honour,  starts  to  the  post  of 
noble  danger  and  maintains  it,  till  by  such  fidelity  it  becomes  a 
place  of  danger  no  more.     .     .     . — Robertson. 

I  have  no  show  of  wealth,  my  wealth  is  you. — Sir  Philip 
Sidney. 

It  would  have  been  evident  to  the  most  casual  on- 
looker that  Craig's  abrupt  entrance  into  the  room  was 
as  unwelcome  as  it  was  unexpected.  The  Earl's  good- 
natured  face  clouded  over  in  a  moment.  Lady  Dorothy 
uttered  a  shocked  little  exclamation,  and  Lady  Merriton 
assumed   her  most   dignified  and   severe  aspect. 

"What  does  this  mean,  Craig?"  she  asked  coldly, 
as  her  son  stooped  to  kiss  her  cheek.  But  Craig,  who 
quite  understood  that  he  had  been  sent  to  Coventry  and 
was  expected  to  remain  at  a  respectful  distance,  took 
no  notice  of  his   chilling   reception. 

"  I  have  been  dining  at  the  Rectory,  mother,"  he 
returned  quietly,  "  and  as  something  has  gone  wrong 
with  the  motor,  I  came  in  search  of  a  spare  bicycle. 
How  are  you,  Aunt  Mary?  I  had  an  idea  you  and 
Joan  were  dining  here  to-night,  and  I  hoped  I  should 
be  in  time  to  see  you  before  you  left."  Craig  was 
looking  at  Joan  as  he  spoke ;  but  the  girl,  who  was  still 
standing  by  the  couch,  had  turned  her  flushed  face 
aside  and  he  could  not  see  her  expression. 

"  It  is  getting  late,  Craig ;  I  think  we  must  be  going 
now,"  observed  Lady  Mary,  who  was  somewhat  alarmed 
at  the  ominous  frown  on  her  brother's  brow.  "  Shall 
we  ring  and  tell  them  to  send  the  carriage  round. 
George?"  But  before  Lord  Merriton  could  answer. 
Craig  negatived  this  in  his  masterful  way. 

ill 


112  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Why  are  you  in  such  a  hurry  this  evening,  Aunt 
.Mary  ?  Collins  will  be  round  at  his  usual  time ;  it  is 
only  a  quarter  to  ten."  And  Lady  Alary,  with  rather  a 
disconcerted  air,  tried  to  look  pleased  at  this  information. 

"  I  thought  it  was  much  later,"  she  murmured  in 
Dorothy's  ear.  "  But  1  suppose  it  is  no  use  hurrying 
Collins,  he  always  will  take  his  time." 

Meanwhile  Craig,  who  seemed  in  a  somewhat 
aggressive  mood,  walked  straight  up  to  Joan. 

"  What  is  this  that  Miss  Rutherford  tells  me  ?  "  he 
asked  abruptly — "  that  you  are  going  away,  and  for 
months?  "  and  his  tone  compelled  Joan  to  look  at  him. 

"  My  brother  has  invited  me  to  pay  a  long  visit  to 
St.  Breda's  Lodge,"  she  stammered.  "  It  has  all  been 
settled  so  hurriedly;  Heath's  letter  only  came  on 
Monday."  But  Joan's  explanation  did  not  seem  to  satisfy 
Craig. 

"  But  you  spent  Christmas  with  your  brother.  Is  it 
not  rather  soon  to  be  paying  him  another  visit?  And 
how  is  it  possible  for  you  to  leave  Aunt  Mary  for 
months?  There  is  something  underneath  all  this,  or 
why  have  I  been  left  so  much  in  the  dark  ?  "  and  Craig's 
tone  of  hurt  resentment  frightened  Joan. 

"  It  was  all  so  hastily  settled,"  she  faltered ;  "  it  was 
only  arranged  on  Monday,  and  as  I  was  going  over  to 
the  Rectory,  I  told  Prudence.  It  is  all  quite  simple, 
Craig  " — but  Joan  paled  visibly  under  the  angry  blue 
fire  of  Craig's  eyes.  "  Heath  wishes  me  to  pay  them  a 
nice  long  visit.  And  as  Lady  Mary  is  willing  to  part 
with  me "  But  before  Joan  could  finish  her  sen- 
tence Lady  Mary  came  to  the  girl's  side. 

"  Why  are  you  catechising  Joan  in  this  peremptory 
fp'-hion,  Craig?"  she  asked  mildly.  "What  she  says  is 
perfectly  true.  Her  brother  wishes  her  to  pav  him  a 
long  visit,  and  I  am  quite  ready  to  spare  her." 

"  You  are  always  ready  to  do  your  duty,  are  you 
not,  Aunt  Mary?"  but  Craig's  tone  was  hardly  con- 
ciliatory.    Then   I   will   not  tease   you   with   any   more 


Craig  Has  His  Innings  113 

questions,  Joan ;  1  see  it  all  quite  clearly  now.  A  nice 
little  family  scheme  has  been  hatched.  Yes,  father,"  as 
the  Earl  rose  heavily  from  his  chair,  "  I  will  talk  to  you 
presently,  but  before  Aunt  Mary  goes  I  will  have  my 
say  for  once.  Do  you  think  I  am  a  child  to  be  blind- 
folded in  this  fashion?  Joan,  I  know  why  you  are 
going  away.  You  and  poor  Aunt  Mary  are  both  to 
be  sacrificed.  You  will  not  be  allowed  to  return  to 
Morningside  until  the  real  scapegrace  is  safe  in  India. 
Do  you  think  I  do  not  understand  all  that?"  And  then 
he  took  her  hand.  "  It  is  good-bye  now,  dear,  but  I 
shall  see  you  again  soon " — and  the  pressure  of  his 
hand  on  hers  comforted  Joan  not  a  little.  At  least  he 
was  not  angry  with  her — all  his  indignation  was  re- 
served for  those  who  had  formulated  the  little  scheme, 
and  were  sending  Joan  away  in  the  hope  that  time  and 
absence  would  cure  his  infatuation. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  wish  you  good-night,  Hilde- 
garde,"  observed  poor  Lady  Mary.  Then  the  Countess 
rose  in  her  most  stately  manner. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  our  pleasant  evening  should  be 
spoilt  by  Craig's  singular  behaviour,  but  I  hope  you  will 
excuse  it.  Joan,  my  dear,  I  will  see  you  after  church 
on  Sunday,  so  this  is  not  good-bye.  Dorothy,  love,  will 
you  go  with  your  aunt  ? "  Thus  did  Lady  Merriton 
clear  the  deck  for  action  ;  but  Craig  took  no  notice  as 
he  walked  across  the  room  to  open  the  door. 

As  Joan  passed  him  he  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  I  am 
so  sorry,  darling,  it  is  all  my  fault."  And  if  her  life 
had  depended  upon  it  Joan  could  not  have  refrained  from 
giving  him  that  smile.  It  was  so  sweet  and  sad  that  it 
stirred  the  young  man's  pulses  with  renewed  hope.  Was 
it  possible,  after  all,  that  she  cared  for  him?  And  as 
he  turned  back  into  the  room  he  registered  an  inward 
vow  that  he  would  not  leave  England  until  he  had  found 
out  the  truth. 

"  And  now,  sir,  what  does  this  strange  behaviour  on 
your  part  mean  ?  "  and  the  Earl  confronted  his  son  with 

8 


114.  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

a  lowering  brow.  He  was  an  easy-tempered  man,  but 
he  could  be  roused  to  fierceness  or  sullenness  when  he 
was  tried  too  severely.  "  You  know  what  your  mother 
and  I  feel  on  the  subject  of  your  conduct  to  Joan  Leigh, 
and  yet  before  our  faces  you  could  make  love  to  her!" 

"  Oh,  no,  Merriton,  Craig  could  hardly  be  accused  of 
that  " — for  the  Countess,  who  was  not  without  tact,  felt 
this  was  going  too  far — "  he  was  only  bidding  Joan  good- 
bye." But  Lord  Merriton  could  be  obstinate  as  well  as 
aggressive  when  he  chose. 

"  He  was  holding  her  hand  for  quite  a  long  time, 
and  he  told  her,  in  defiance  of  our  known  wishes,  that 
he  would  see  her  again,  and  when  he  opened  the  door 
he  was  whispering  in  her  ear.  We  used  to  call  that 
sort  of  thing  making  love  in  my  time,  my  lady."  Then 
the  glimmer  of  an  amused  smile  crossed  Craig's  face. 
"  Really  at  times  the  governor  was  too  funny !  " 

"  I  do  not  deny  that  I  said  so,  sir,"  he  returned 
quietly,  "  and  if  I  live  I  shall  certainly  keep  my  word. 
Canon  Leigh  is  a  gentleman — I  suppose  he  will  not 
turn  me  out  of  his  house.  And  if  he  does,  there  are 
other  ways  and  means.  Thank  heaven,  we  don't  live 
in  the  dark  ages,  when  parents  were  jailers  and  recreant 
daughters  were  consigned  to  nunneries !  "  And  Craig 
laughed  in  rather  a  scoffing  fashion. 

"  My  dear  boy,  that  is  hardly  the  way  to  talk  to 
your  father,  especially  as  you  can  see  how  vexed  and 
worried  he  is." 

"  There  is  no  particular  reason  for  my  father  to  be 
either  vexed  or  worried,"  returned  Craig  in  a  loud, 
fierce  voice.  "  I  am  committing  no  crime  in  wanting  to 
marry  Joan.  If  I  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  music-hall 
singer  or  a  ballet  dancer  there  might  be  some  reason  for 
my  father's  anger.  "But  Joan  Leigh  is  a  gentlewoman, 
and  her  brother  is  in  a  good  position,  and  even  if  her 
pedigree  is  nothing  particular.  T  should  not  be  the  first 
Bastow  who  has  not  married  in  his  own  rank.  Joan's 
want  of  money  is  the  difficulty — oh,  yes,  I  grant  you 


Craig  Has  His  Innings  115 

that.  But  she  is  Aunt  Mary's  adopted  daughter,  and 
"     But  here  the  Earl  angrily  interposed. 

"  Your  Aunt  Mary  has  very  little  money  to  leave. 
I  have  seen  Sir  Martin's  will.  The  greater  part  will 
go  to  Sir  Rodney  Boyle,  and  was  only  for  her  use 
during  her  life.  I  have  also  been  led  to  believe  that 
some  of  this  will  come  to  Dorothy,  and  only  a  com- 
paratively small  sum  will  be  left  to  Joan." 

"  I  don't  see  that  that  matters,  father " — and  now 
Craig  spoke  more  civilly — "  we  shall  have  to  wait  rather 
a  long  time,  that  is  all.  I  am  not  afraid  of  being  poor," 
continued  the  young  man,  "  I  am  only  afraid  of  losing 
the  girl  I  love.  Now,  mother,  I  must  not  stay  any 
longer,  as  my  time  is  up.  I  must  go  round  to  the 
bicycle-house  and  make  tracks  for  Aldershot." 

"  We  shall  see  you  next  week,  Craig  ? "  asked  his 
mother  anxiously.  But  he  would  not  be  induced  to  name 
any  special  evening.  He  might  look  in  for  an  hour  or 
two  one  of  these  days,  unless  he  were  too  busy ;  and 
Lady  Merriton  was  obliged  to  be  content  with  this  vague 
assurance. 

"  You  were  a  little  too  heavy-minded,  Merriton," 
observed  his  wife,  as  soon  as  they  were  left  alone.  "  Boys 
of  Craig's  age  are  apt  to  be  touchy  and  to  mount  the 
high  horse.  He  is  behaving  in  a  most  ridiculous  fashion ; 
but  if  we  quarrel  with  him  we  shall  only  make  things 
worse,  and  he  won't  keep  near  us." 

"  Then  let  him  keep  away,"  returned  the  Earl  testily. 
But  his  wife  looked  at  him  reproachfully. 

"  Oh,  Merriton,  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing,  when 
you  know  Cicely  will  be  here  and  we  want  him  to  come 
as  often  as  possible!" 

"  And  what  good  will  that  do  when  the  lad  is  in 
this  humour?"  replied  her  husband.  "He  will  as  likely 
as  not  affront  the  girl  with  his  sulkiness  and  inatten- 
tion, just  to  pay  us  out  for  sending  his  sweetheart  away." 
But  Lady  Merriton  refused  to  admit  this. 

"Craig  is  a  gentleman,"  she  said  calmly;  "he  will 


116  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

not  treat  our  guest  so  discourteously.  Besides,  he  and 
Cicely  are  very  good  friends,  and  they  always  get  on 
so  well  together.  You  must  not  be  too  anxious,  my 
dear,  and  spoil  my  nice  little  plan.  Young  people  will 
have  their  fling — they  kick  up  their  heels  like  young 
colts  at  grass,  and  run  away  from  their  own  shadows — 
but  we  must  bide  our  time.  Joan,  poor  child,  will  be 
safely  out  of  the  way,  and  when  Craig  comes  you  may 
depend  upon  it  that  he  will  be  quite  pleased  to  see  his 
old  friend.  And  as  for  Cicely,  it  is  my  belief  that  she 
is  more  than  half  in  love  with  Craig  now,  though  only 
Dorothy  and  I  have  found  it  out."  And  then,  as  her 
husband  seemed  somewhat  impressed  by  this  view  of 
the  case,  Lady  Merriton  announced  her  intention  of  re- 
tiring, as  the  hour  was  late. 

Merriton  would  recover  his  good  temper  over  his 
pipe,  she  thought.  My  Lady  Nicotine  is  an  unfailing 
peacemaker.  His  heart  would  soften  to  Craig,  and  he 
would  think  more  leniently  of  his  obstinacy  and  wrong- 
headedness.  "  After  all,  there  is  some  excuse  for  the 
poor  boy,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  Joan  is  certainly  a 
very  taking  little  person ;  I  could  not  help  admiring 
her  myself  to-night.  But  there.  Cicely  will  soon  make 
him  forget  her  !  " 

There  was  no  word  exchanged  between  Lady  Mary 
and  Joan  until  they  entered  Morningside,  when  Lady 
Mary  made  her  usual  Thursday  night  speech. 

"  We  won't  keep  Dunlop  out  of  her  bed  while  we 
talk.  As  soon  as  she  has  brushed  my  hair  T  will  come 
to  vour  room  and  bid  you  good-night."  This  was  a 
slight  deviation  from  the  ordinary  routine,  as  Joan  gen- 
erally went  to  Lady  Mary's  room.  But  she  made  no 
remark  on  this,  she  was  far  too  preoccupied  to  notice 
trifles;  but  all  the  same  she  would  have  preferred  dis- 
pensing with  the  usual  talk  altogether. 

When  Lady  Mary  came  about  twenty  minutes  later, 
she  expressed  some  surprise  at  seeing  Joan  still  in  her 
evening  dress. 


Craig  Has  His  Innings  117 

"Do  you  know  it  has  just  struck  eleven?"  she  said 
in  a  tone  of  mild  rebuke. 

"  Has  it?  "  returned  Joan  indifferently.  "  But  it  does 
not  matter,  for  1  am  not  a  bit  sleepy.  I  have  been 
having  a  tremendous  think,  as  Wanda  used  to  say." 
But  Lady  Mary  only  shook  her  head  rather  sadly. 

"  Dunlop  wanted  to  talk,  but  I  was  obliged  to  tell 
her  I  was  too  tired.  I  hope  it  was  the  truth,"  she  con- 
tinued anxiously ;  for  she  was  very  scrupulous,  and 
always  took  herself  to  task  if  her  conscience  told  her 
that  she  had  in  any  way  exaggerated  the  truth.  "  Craig, 
foolish  fellow,  has  given  us  enough  to  think  about. 
How  unfortunate  that  he  should  have  dined  at  the 
Rector\r  to-night ;  for  of  course  Prudence  would 
naturally  suppose  that  he  was  aware  of  your  going  away." 

"  I  do  not  know  why  Prudence  should  take  that  for 
granted." 

"  Very  likely  the  Rector  or  Mr.  Trafford  may  have 
mentioned  it  first,  and  Craig  would  probably  turn  to 
her  for  an  explanation.  But  I  think  it  was  a  pity  he 
should  come  straight  to  the  Abbey,  as  he  certainly 
expected  to  find  us  there,  and  make  such  an  uncom- 
fortable scene.  I  don't  think  he  ought  to  have  put  you 
in  such  a  painful  position." 

"  It  was  certainly  very  awkward,"  observed  Joan. 
"  But  I  don't  see  that  Craig  was  to  blame.  I  think  the 
Earl  and  Lady  Merriton  were  very  hard  on  him." 

"  They  thought  he  had  no  right  to  come,  Joan,  when 
his  mother  had  begged  him  to  remain  away  for  a  few 
days.  There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  making  his 
father  angry." 

''  T  think  it  was  for  Craig  to  be  angry,"  returned 
Joan  in  her  clear  young  voice.  "  They  are  treating 
him  like  a  child,  as  he  said — keeping  him  in  the  dark 
and  making  uncomfortable  plots  and  mysteries.  People 
can  be  too  clever  and  overreach  themselves,"  continued 
the  girl.  "  How  much  wiser  it  would  have  been  for 
his   mother  to   tell   Craig  the   simple  truth — that  they 


118  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

thought  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  go  to  St.  Breda's 
for  the  present!  He  would  have  been  just  as  sorry,  of 
course,  but  he  would  not  have  been  so  hurt  and  angry.  ' 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,  dear." 

"  Craig  is  very  straightforward  and  he  hates  little 
crooked  paths,  and  you  have  no  idea  how  proud  he  is, 
and  they  are  taking  him  just  the  wrong  way.  I 
thought,"  went  on  Joan  indignantly,  *  that  Lady  Merriton 
would  know  better,  but  she  is  making  mistakes  too. 
Did  they  tell  you  that  Lady  Cicely  is  coming  to  the 
Abbey  for  a  long  visit  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  told  me  on  Monday.  I  think  I  was  rather 
sorry  to  hear  it,  though,  of  course,  she  will  be  a  nice 
companion  for  Dorothy." 

"  Lady  Merriton  was  not  thinking  of  Dorothy,"  re- 
turned Joan  with  a  scornful  laugh.  "  But  she  is  making 
a  grievous  mistake.  It  is  far  too  soon  to  weave  these 
pretty  little  plots.  Craig  is  so  clearsighted,  he  will  read 
between  the  lines  at  once,  and  his  visits  to  the  Abbey 
will  be  few  and  far  between,  and  poor  dear  Lady  Cicely's 
feelings  will  be  hurt."  And  Lady  Mary  sighed,  for  she 
knew  Joan  was  speaking  the  truth.  She  was  by  no 
means  certain  that  Lady  Merriton  was  pursuing  a  wise 
policy. 

"You  are  sorry  that  they  have  invited  Cicely?"  she 
said  very  gently.     But  Joan  would  not  allow  this. 

"  I  am  only  sorry  that  the  invitation  has  been  given 
so  soon,"  she  returned  rather  proudly.  "  I  think  if  they 
had  waited  a  little  they  would  have  had  more  chance 
of  success.  Do  not  misunderstand  me,  dear,  or  think 
for  a  moment  that  T  would  ever  consent  to  stand  in 
Craig's  way.  Tf  he  can  bring  himself  to  love  Lady 
Cicely,  T  am  quite  sure  that  it  would  be  far  better  for 
him  to  marrv  her,  and  T  should  be  the  first  to  tell  him  so." 

"  You  are  a  dear,  generous  child,  Joan,  and  T  believe 
you,"  returned  Lady  Man-,  taking  the  girl's  hand  as 
she  spoke.  "  But  the  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage 
of  those  we  love  are  not  in  our  weak  hands,  and  I  think 


Craig  Has  His  Innings  119 

we  may  thank  God  for  that,  for  some  of  us  would-be 
wise  folk  would  make  a  rare  muddle  of  things."  And 
then  a  sweet,  serious  smile  came  to  Lady  Mary's  lips. 
"  Don't  you  remember  those  lines  that  struck  us  both 
so  much?     They  begin: 

He  holds  the  key  of  all   unknown, 

And  I  am  glad ; 
If  other  hand  should  hold  the  key, 
Or  if  He  trusted  it  to  me, 

I  might  be  sad. 

What  if  to-morrow's  cares  were  here 

Without  its  rest? 
I'd  rather  He'd  unlocked  the  day, 
And  as  its  hours  swung  open  say, 

"  My  will  is  best." 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  is  so  beautiful !  " 

"  Then  we  will  just  think  of  it  to-night,  you  and  I, 
and  not  trouble  ourselves  about  other  people's  mistakes. 
There,  good-night,  my  child,  and  God  bless  you !  " 

When  Lady  Mary  left  the  room,  Joan  was  in  no 
haste  to  seek  her  couch — she  had  not  quite  finished  her 
thinking.  As  she  brushed  out  the  masses  of  her  glorious 
hair,  her  mind  dwelt  on  that  strange  scene  in  the  Abbey 
drawing-room,  and  once  she  laughed  aloud,  but  the  tears 
were  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  you  darling,"  she  said  softly,  "  how  I  love 
you !  "  But  she  was  not  speaking  of  her  dear  Lady 
Mary. 


XIV 

"  AUF  WIEDEltSEHEN !  " 

Surely  it  is  not  true  blessedness  to  be  free  from  sorrow,  while 
there  is  sorrow  and  sin  in  the  world ;  sorrow  is  then  a  part  of 
love,  and  love  does  not  seek  to  throw  it  off. — George  Eliot. 

And  when  the  melancholy  fit  shall  fall 
Sudden  from  Heaven  like  a  creeping  cloud, 
Then  glut  thy  sorrow  on  a  morning  rose, 
Or  on  the  rainbow  of  the  salt  sand  wave, 
Or  on  the  wealth  of  globed  peonies. 

Keats. 

Both  Lady  Mary  and  Joan  had  secretly  hoped  that 
their  friends  would  have  left  them  in  peace  during  those 
last  three  days.  But  nothing  seemed  further  from  their 
intention.  From  morning  to  evening  they  were  never 
alone. 

Lady  Dorothy  perfectly  haunted  the  house.  She 
came  in  the  morning  to  help  Joan  with  her  packing,  and 
there  was  generally  some  urgent  reason  why  she  should 
look  in  at  tea-time.  And  she  was  so  sweetly  affectionate 
to  Joan,  and  so  anxious  to  do  all  in  her  power  to  soften 
the  pain  of  parting,  that  no  one  could  have  the  heart 
to  hint  that  she  was  wasting  valuable  time.  Then  on 
Saturday  afternoon  Prudence  called,  and  brought  her 
brother  and  Mr.  Trafford  with  her;  and  as  Lady  Dorothy 
was  there  also,  there  was  quite  a  cheerful  tea-party. 
And  they  slaved  so  long  that  Lady  Dorothy  had  to  hurry 
off  for  fear  she  should  be  late  for  dinner.  But  to  Joan's 
chagrin  she  turned  up  again  in  the  evening  with  a 
age  from  her  mother.  Lady  Merriton  had  one  of 
her  tiresome  sore  throats  and  would  not  be  able  to  go 
to  church  the  next  day;  and  she  begged,  as  a  special 
favour,  that  Lady  Mary  and  Joan  would  come  up  to 
luncheon,  and  then  she  could  bid  Joan  good-bye. 

120 


"Auf  Wiedersehen!"  121 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  sighed  Joan.  But  Lady  Mary  gave  her 
a  warning  glance.  The  invitation  was  as  unwelcome 
to  her  as  it  was  to  Joan,  but  it  would  never  do  to  refuse 
it. 

"  Your  mother  is  very  kind,  Dorothy,  and  I  am  so 
sorry  she  has  caught  cold.  As  she  wishes  it  so  much, 
we  will  drive  straight  from  Herondale.  But  we  shall 
not  be  able  to  stay  to  tea. 

"  But  why  not,  Aunt  Mary?  Joan  has  finished  her 
packing,  and  there  is  nothing  else  to  do." 

"  I  should  prefer  to  come  home  early  in  the  after- 
noon," returned  Lady  Mary  quietly. 

"  Then  I  will  come  back  with  you,"  returned  Lady 
Dorothy  impulsively ;  "  for  I  want  to  see  as  much  of 
Joan  as  I  possibly  can." 

"I  think  I  must  ask  you  not  to  do  that,  Dollie," 
returned  her  aunt,  with  a  smile.  "  Perhaps  I  am  selfish, 
but  I  want  Joan  all  to  myself  the  last  evening." 

Then  Lady  Dorothy  coloured  slightly  and  said  no 
more.  She  was  very  amiable  and  loving,  but  she  was 
a  little  dense  at  times,  and  her  want  of  perception  some- 
limes  tried  Joan. 

"  I  was  so  glad  you  said  that  to  Dorothy,"  she  ob- 
served later.  '  The  dear  thing  really  gives  us  too  much 
of  her  company  just  now.  I  don't  think  it  is  quite  kind 
of  Lady  Merriton  to  ask  us  to  luncheon  to-morrow,  when 
she  knows  you  like  to  stay  quietly  at  home  on  Sundays." 

"  But  she  means  to  be  kind,  dear.  She  wants  to 
make  up  for  that  contretemps  on  Thursday.  She  is 
only  paying  you  a  little  attention."  But  Joan  smiled 
rather  ruefully.  What  was  the  good  of  escaping  Scylla 
if  there  were  still  a  danger  of  Charybdis!  But  Lady 
Mary,  who  quite  understood  the  girl's  feelings,  went  on 
in  a  soothing  manner: 

"  We  will  not  stay  long.  I  will  promise  you  that, 
love.  We  will  have  one  of  our  nice  quiet  Sunday  even- 
ings. You  will  not  mind  giving  up  church  for  once?" 
Then  Joan  protested  quite  vehemently  that  she  never 
intended   to  go  that  last  evening. 


122  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  1  thought  not.  You  shall  sing  some  of  my  favourite 
hymns,  and  we  will  have  a  nice  talk.  1  mean  to  tell 
\\  liiis  not  to  admit  any  one."  And  then  Joan  was 
pacified. 

Joan  tried  hard  to  be  bright  the  next  day,  for  Lady 
Mary's  sake,  but  her  heart  was  as  heavy  as  lead.  And 
though  she  did  her  best  to  enter  into  the  beautiful  ser- 
vice, and  listen  to  the  Rector's  helpful  sermon,  her 
thoughts  would  wander  to  forbidden  subjects,  and  she 
would  ask  herself  how  long  it  would  be  before  she 
occupied  her  old  seat  in  Herondale  Church. 

"  If  I  could  be  sure  that  I  shall  only  be  exiled  for 
five  months,"  she  thought ;  "  but  how  is  one  to  be 
certain  of  anything  under  such  circumstances?  " 

Prudence  had  bidden  her  good-bye  the  previous  day, 
but  she  hurried  after  them  for  a  final  hand-shake  in 
the  porch. 

"  We  shall  have  you  back  before  long,"  she  said, 
with  a  kind  smile.  "  And  Dorothy  and  I  mean  to  write 
and  tell  you  all  the  parish  news.  Mr.  Trafford  is  going 
to  take  your  class  this  afternoon ;  I  expect  his  stories 
will  amuse  the  children."  And  these  few  cheerful  words 
brightened  Joan's  pale  face. 

Mr.  Trafford  put  them  into  the  carriage. 

"  I  expect  we  shall  meet  before  long,  Miss  Leigh," 
he  observed.  "  I  shall  have  to  pay  my  respects  to  my 
new  uncle,  and  judge  for  myself  the  effects  of  a  late 
matrimonial  alliance  on  my  maiden  aunt.  I  believe 
Kenwyn  is  not  far  from  St.  Breda's  Lodge?" 

"  Oh,  no,  it  is  just  across  the  green.  I  expect  my 
sister-in-law  will  soon  make  Mrs.  Ramsay's  acquaintance ; 
of  course  everv  one  in  the  Precincts  know  each  other." 
And  Mr.  Trafford  professed  himself  delighted  to  hear 
this. 

Luncheon  at  the  Abbey  was  rather  a  dull  meal  that 
day.  The  Earl  was  not  in  good  spirits,  and  Lady  Mer- 
riton  was  so  unwell  that  she  offered  no  objection  when 
Lady  Mary  rose  to  take  leave. 


"Auf  Wiedersehen!"  123 

"  You  are  only  fit  to  be  in  your  room,  Hildegarde," 
she  said  sympathetically,  "  and  talking  is  only  making 
you  hoarse."  And  the  Countess  was  obliged  to  own 
that  she  was  right. 

"  I  must  not  kiss  you,  Joan,"  she  said,  holding  the 
girl's  hand  affectionately,  "  I  always  think  sore  throats 
are  infectious ;  but  I  hope  you  will  have  a  pleasant  visit, 
my  dear." 

"  I  suppose  I  may  run  across  after  breakfast  for  five 
minutes  to  wish  you  good-bye."  And  Lady  Dorothy's 
voice  was  rather  reproachful. 

"  Of  course  you  may,  Dorcas  dear ;  we  shall  not 
leave  until  after  ten ;  "  and  then  Dorothy  seemed  content. 

That  last  evening  was  a  strangely  peaceful  memory 
to  Joan  during  the  next  few  months.  There  were  no 
troublesome  intruders  to  disturb  them.  Joan  sang  all 
Lady  Mary's  favourite  hymns,  and  played  her  best  loved 
selections  from  Handel  and  Bach  and  Mendelssohn. 
And  then,  as  the  soft  spring  twilight  stole  over  the 
garden,  she  joined  Lady  Mary  in  the  window  recess, 
where  she  often  sat  to  watch  the  sunset.  It  had  faded 
now.  and  only  a  faint  pink  streak,  like  a  fading  scarf, 
lay  across  the  great  breadths  of  evening  sky. 

Lady  Mary  did  not  speak  as  she  made  room  for  the 
girl,  but  when  a  shy  little  hand  stole  into  hers  she  held 
it  fast.     It  was  Joan   who  broke  the  silence. 

"  Next  Sunday,"  she  said  softly,  "  you  will  be  sitting 
here  alone." 

Lady  Mary  sighed.  "  Oh,  I  knew  we  should  be 
both  thinking  of  that !  I  shall  be  missing  my  child  sadly, 
but  I  comfort  myself  by  remembering  that  she  will  not 
be  far  awav.  Join  dear,  if  you  should  need  me,  or 
be  in  any  difficulty,  you  have  only  to  tell  me  so  and 
I  will  come  to  you  at  once." 

"  How  sweet  of  you  to  say  that !  "  and  Joan  nestled 
against  her  so  closely  that  her  ruddy  locks  brushed 
Lady  Mary's  shoulder.  "  Do  you  know  what  is  troub- 
ling me  this  evening?     It  is  the  fear  that  you  might  be 


124  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

ill  and  wanting  me,  and  that  they  would  not  allow  you 
to  send  for  me.'' 

"  My  dear,  what  could  have  put  such  an  absurd  idea 
into  your  head !  If  I  were  ill  and  really  wanted  you,  I 
should  certainly  send  for  you  without  asking-  any  one's 
permission.  Why,"  as  a  low  sob  reached  her  ear,  "  my 
darling,  you  must  not  give  way  to  these  morbid  fancies. 
Surely  you  can  trust  me  ?  " 

"  Entirely,  implicitly — you  have  never  disappointed 
me  yet,"  exclaimed  the  girl  passionately.  "  It  is  only 
other  people's  influence  that  I  am  fearing." 

"  No  one  will  ever  come  between  us,  Joan.  If  you 
were  my  own  child  I  think  I  could  not  love  you  better." 

"  And  yet  you  can  send  me  away  from  you  ?  "  mur- 
mured the  girl.  "  No,  forgive  me,  dearest,  I  ought  not 
to  have  said  that.  I  know  that  it  is  right  for  me  to 
SO." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  can  say  that.  And  though  we 
are  both  rather  sad  at  heart  this  evening,  I  do  not  for 
one  moment  regret  the  step  we  have  taken.  I  would 
far  rather  part  with  you  for  a  time,  and  feel  that  you 
were  on  the  path  of  duty,  than  keep  you  with  me  for 
my  own  pleasure.  We  are  both  trying  to  save  our 
dear  boy  from  making  a  great  mistake,  and  to  restore 
peace  to  a  troubled  household,  and  even  if  we  fail  we 
have  done  our  best." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  hope  so."  But  for  the  moment  Joan  was 
unable  to  say  any  more.  A  sudden  thought  had  flashed 
through  her  mind,  almost  turning  her  giddy.  Was 
Lady  Mary  right,  after  all?  Were  any  of  them  right? 
What  if  the  sacrifice  were  unnecessary,  and  they  were 
all  making  a  grievous  mistake?  What  if,  after  all,  it 
would  not  be  the  best  and  wisest  thing  for  Craig  to 
marry  the  girl  he  loved  ?  " 

Joan  clenched  her  disengaged  hand  as  this  doubt 
assailed  her. 

"Lady  Mary  is  a  good  woman,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  but  good  people  make  sad  mistakes  sometimes.     I  am 


"  Auf  Wiedersehen !  "  125 

sure  she  did  in  her  own  case,  when  she  gave  up  Maurice 
Annersley.  How  is  she  sure  that  Lady  Cicely  will  be 
the  right  wife  for  Craig — that  she  will  make  him  happy  ? 
What  right  have  we  short-sighted  human  creatures  to 
try  and  make  or  mar  our  neighbor's  life — to  remove 
his  landmarks  or  take  from  him  his  dearest  posses- 
sion under  pretence  of  giving  him  something  better  ? 
Money  is  not  everything,  it  cannot  buy  happiness  or 
peace  of  mind  or  any  of  Heaven's  best  gifts,"  went  on 
the  girl  despondently. 

But  at  this  moment  Lady  Mary's  soft  tones  arrested 
her  attention.  By  some  singular  transmission  of 
thought  she  seemed  to  have  guessed  Joan's  perplexity, 
for  she  was  repeating  to  herself  softly  the  lines  she  had 
quoted  on  Thursday  night: 

"  He  holds  the  key  of  all  unknown, 

And  I  am  glad ; 
If  other  hand  should  hold  the  key, 
Or  if  He  trusted  it  to  me, 

I  might  be  sad." 

And  then  Joan  resolutely  threw  off  the  tormenting  doubt 
which  threatened  her  peace. 

After  this  they  talked  quietly  of  many  things — little 
everyday  arrangements  such  as  women  love  to  discuss. 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  write  to  me  oftener  than  you 
like,  Joan,"  observed  Lady  Mary  presently.  "  Much 
as  I  shall  love  your  letters,  I  do  not  want  them  to  be 
a  burden.  And  I  will  not  expect  them  on  any  special 
day — I  always  think  that  is  such  a  mistake. 

"  Then  in  that  case  our  letters  will  cross  sometimes, 
and  I  shall  have  to  write  off  by  the  next  post  to  answer 
your  questions.  Not  that  I  shall  mind  that,"  continued 
Joan  hastily,  "  for  writing  to  you  will  be  one  of  my 
chief  pleasures,  and  I  shall  not  grudge  either  time  or 
trouble."     Then  Lady  Mary  looked  pleased. 

There  was  something  that  Joan  wanted  to  say, 
though  she  hardly  knew  how  to  clothe  her  meaning  in 


126  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

words.  But  Lady  Mary,  who  was  very  clear-sighted, 
read  the  girl's  troubled  expression  correctly. 

"There  is  something  you  want  to  ask  me,  Joan? 
Don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me  if  there  is  anything  1  can  do 
to  make  you  happier."     But  Joan  shook  her  head. 

"  No.  I  was  not  thinking  of  myself.  I  was  only 
going  to  ask  you  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  me  in 
your  letters,  and  not  to  hide  things  for  fear  of  giving 
me  pain." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  now !  You  mean  that  I  am  to 
let  you  know  how  matters  progress  between  Craig  and 
Lady  Cicely?" 

"  Yes,  I  mean  that,"  and  Joan's  voice  was  quite 
steady.  "  It  would  be  far  better  for  me  to  be  prepared 
than  to  be  told  suddenly  that  they  were  engaged.  There 
is  no  one  else  whom  I  can  ask  to  do  this." 

After  a  moment's  consideration,  Lady  Mary  prom- 
ised that  nothing  of  importance  should  be  kept  back. 
"  But  I  shall  expect  equal  confidence  on  your  side,"  she 
finished. 

Then  Joan,  who  was  much  relieved  on  gaining  her 
point,  assured  her  that  her  letters  should  be  faithful 
records  of  her  doings  and  feelings.  "  I  shall  tell  you 
how  I  get  on  with  Silence,  and  when  I  am  naughty  to 
her."  But  as  a  grave  look  came  to  Lady  Mary's  face 
at  this — "  I  really  do  mean  to  be  as.  good  as  possible." 

"  And  you  won't  laugh  at  her  for  being  a  little  fussy 
over    Heath    and   the    children  ?  " 

"  No,  I  will  only  call  her  an  early  Victorian  wife ; 
she  will  consider  that  a  compliment.  Silence  is  very 
enthusiastic  about  our  Queen  of  blessed  memory;  she 
thinks  that  there  never  has  been,  and  never  will  be,  any 
queen  to  compare  with  her." 

"  T   think   many  of  us  will  agree   with   her  in  that." 

"  Oh,  but  she  carries  her  hero-worship  to  such  an 
extent!  Do  you  know,  there  is  a  large  framed  picture 
of  the  old  Queen  in  every  room  in  the  house,  even  in 
the  children's  bedrooms.     And  in  the  dining-room  there 


"Auf  Wiedersehen!"  127 

are  two:  the  youthful  Victoria  Regina  in  her  corona- 
tion robes,  with  her  girlish  face  and  plaited  hair;  and 
the  aged  widow  Queen,  at  the  date  of  her  Diamond 
Jubilee." 

"  1  like  Silence  all  the  better  for  her  true-hearted 
loyalty." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Joan  with  a  touch  of  her  old  mis- 
chief, "  and  it  is  a  comfort  to  feel  that  there  is  one  subject 
on  which  we  really  agree !  "  Then  Lady  Mary  laughed 
and  patted  her  cheek. 

"  You  must  be  careful  Joan.  A  little  tact  and  for- 
bearance are  the  sweeteners  of  daily  life.  Never  forget 
for  one  moment  that  Silence  is  the  mistress  of  the  house 
and  your  brother's  wife,  and  that,  however  you  may 
wonder  at  the  fact,  he  dearly  loves  and  honours  her." 
Lady  Mary's  quiet  tone  conveyed  such  occult  meaning 
to  Joan's  ear  that  the  girl  flushed  uneasily.  "  Con- 
science, which  makes  cowards  of  us  all,"  most  certainly 
did  not  exonerate  her.  And  then,  as  the  gong  announced 
the  evening  meal,  there  was  no  further  allusion  to  St. 
Breda's  Lodge. 

Two  hours  later,  when  Joan  entered  her  room,  she 
was  surprised  to  find  a  tiny  bouquet  lying  beside  her 
brushes  on  the  toilet-table. 

A  beautiful  crimson  rose  which  she  knew  had  come 
from  the  conservatory  at  the  Abbey  was  surrounded  by 
sprays  of  forget-me-not  which  she  also  knew  had  grown 
in  a  sheltered  corner  of  the  kitchen  garden.  "  How 
sweet  of  Dorcas  to  think  of  that !  "  she  said  to  herself. 
And  then  she  saw  there  was  a  word  or  two  written  on 
the  slip  of  paper  round  the  flowers — "  Auf  Wiederse- 
hen !  "  and  her  heart  beat  a  little  faster,  for  she  knew 
the  handwriting  was  not  Dorothy's.  Craig  had  sent 
them,  but  how  and  in  what  way  had  he  contrived  that 
that  floral  message  should  reach  her?  And  this  question 
puzzled  Joan  for  a  long  time.  But  if  she  had  only 
known,  it  was  perfectly  simple. 

Craig  had  walked  over  to  Herondale  for  the  evening 


128  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

service.  Lady  Dorothy  was  also  there.  The  Ogilvies 
had  offered  her  a  seat  in  their  waggonette.  As  there  was 
a  spare  seat,  Craig  proposed  driving  back  with  them 
to  the  Abbey,  as  he  was  anxious  to  know  how  his  mother 
was.  And  the  farewell  message  was  a  sudden  inspira- 
tion which  came  to  him;  the  only  difficulty  was  to  find 
a  messenger.  But  fortune  often  favours  the  brave ;  at 
the  gate  of  Morningside  he  came  upon  Anne,  the  under 
housemaid,  who  had  been  trained  to  service  under  the 
Abbey  housekeeper,  and  he  asked  her  in  a  cool,  matter- 
of-fact  voice  to  place  them  in  Miss  Leigh's  room.  Anne, 
with  all  a  young  girl's  love  of  mystery  and  love-making, 
readily  promised  to  do  so ;  and  the  next  moment  she 
hid  the  flowers  under  her  jacket,  as  Willis  overtook 
her. 

"What  was  the  Captain  saying  to  you,  Annie?"  he 
asked  suspiciously.  But  Anne  tossed  her  head  in  rather 
a  pert  manner. 

"  Law,  Mr.  Willis,  there  is  no  call  for  you  to  be  so 
inquisitive.  The  Captain  was  only  sending  his  respects 
to  the  ladies.  But  there,  I  must  hurry  on  as  I  am  a 
bit  late."    And  then  she  quickly  accomplished  her  errand. 

Joan's  hand  trembled  a  little  as  she  held  the  flowers, 
and  by  and  by  a  great  bright  tear  rolled  down  her  cheek 
and  fell  into  the  very  heart  of  the  crimson  rose,  where 
it  lay  like  a  dewdrop. 

"  Darling — darling,  and  I  must  not  even  thank  you !  " 
she  whispered.  But  Craig  never  guessed  how  that 
silent  message  comforted  her;  and  neither  then  nor 
afterwards  did  Joan  mention  the  little  episode  to  Lady 
Mary. 


XV 

WHO  IS  SHE,  LITTLE  BEAR?" 

I  held  it  more  human,  more  heav'nly,  first 
By  winning  words  to  conquer  willing  hearts, 
And  make  persuasion  do  the  work  of  fear. 

Milton. 

Gently  I  took  that  which  ungently  came, 
And  without  scorn  forgave.    Do  thou  the  same. 
A  wrong  done  to  thee,  think  a  cat's  eye  spark, 
Thou  would'st  not  see,  were  not  thine  own  heart  dark. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Easter  was  unusually  early  that  year,  and  as  the 
train  slackened  at  St.  Breda's  station  Joan  was  not 
surprised  to  see  her  brother  on  the  platform  with  all 
his  five  children  round  him,  and  for  the  moment  the 
pleasant  sight  banished  the  girl's  sadness.  "  Oh,  how 
nice  of  you  all  to  come  and  meet  me !  "  she  exclaimed, 
and  Canon  Leigh  smiled  as  he  helped  her  out. 

"  They  insisted  on  coming,  and  I  thought  you  would 
not  object."  And  then  Joan  kissed  them  all  round, 
not  excepting  her  eldest  nephew — a  proceeding  which 
seemed  to  embarrass  Vere,  who,  being  thirteen  and  a 
Winchester  boy,  was  inclined  to  stand  on  his  dignity. 
Even  Joan's  innocently  surprised  remark,  "  Why,  how 
tall  you  have  grown,  Vere !  "  failed  to  atone  for  that 
indiscretion. 

"  A  fellow  hates  to  be  kissed  in  a  public  place  " ;  he 
confided  afterwards  to  Frank.  "  You  saw  yourself  that 
father  only  shook   hands  with  her." 

But  Frank,  who  had  not  yet  attained  to  the  glories 
of  a  public  school,  grinned  dubiously.  He  was  devoted 
to  Vere,  and  during  the  holidays  he  followed  him  about 
like  his  shadow;  but  he  was  a  warm-hearted  boy,  and 

9  129 


130  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

much  attached  to  his  young  aunt.  "  Well,  I  don't  know," 
he  returned  slowly.  "  You  see,  I  am  not  so  grown-up  as 
you,  Yere,  and  I  don't  a  bit  mind  Aunt  Joan  kissing  me 
— any  more  than  Noel  does." 

"  Oh,  Noel's  a  baby — and  you  are  not  much  better 
yourself!  "  he  was  going  to  add.  But  Frank's  face  was 
so  red  and  his  brown  eyes  so  appealing  that  Vere  forgot 
his  hurt  dignity. 

"  Oh,  never  mind,  little  'un,  we  can't  all  have  the 
same  tastes!  Now,  if  you  like  to  race  me  to  the  next 
lamp-post  for  two  big  bull's-eyes  ?  "  And  Frank  was 
alert  at  once. 

"  And  me  too,  Yere,"  almost  screamed  Noel,  a  solemn- 
faced,  delicate  little  fellow  of  seven  years  old — "  me  too, 
Vere!" 

"  Shut  up,  Noel,"  remarked  his  elder  brother  severely. 
"  Little  boys  of  your  age  should  be  seen,  not  heard. 
Come  on,  Frankie,  you  may  take  the  usual  start — only 
play  fair — one,  two,  three,  and  away."  But  though 
Frank  ran  as  though  a  bull  were  after  him,  Vere  was 
first  at  the  winning-post. 

"  That's  not  so  bad,"  he  said  encouragingly.  "  But 
you  can't  expect  to  beat  me  for  the  next  year  or  two. 
Look  here,  you  and  Noel  can  have  the  bull's-eyes.  I 
don't  want  to  spoil  my  tea,  for  I  know  there  is  going 
to  be  strawberry  jam  and  no  end  of  cakes  in  Aunt 
Joan's  honour."  And  then  the  three  brothers  walked 
on  amicably. 

Meanwhile,  Canon  Leigh  had  managed  to  pack 
Joan,  his  two  girls,  himself,  and  Rascal  into  the  roomy 
fly,  leaving  the  heaviest  part  of  the  luggage  for  the 
carrier's  cart. 

Canon  Leigh  had  become  rather  a  dignified  person- 
ality of  late  years.  In  his  younger  days  he  had  been 
somewhat  thin,  but  he  had  filled  out  and  was  now  quite 
portly.  He  was  a  good-looking  man,  with  a  strong 
face  and  fine  dark  eyes,  and  his  wife  thought  that  no 
dignitary  of  the  Church  could  compare  with  him.     And 


"Who  is  She,  Little  Bear?"  131 

though  Joan  did  not  exactly  share  Silence's  adoration, 
she  felt  a  natural  admiration  for  her  brother. 

"  I  want  him  to  be  a  dean,"  she  said  once  to  Lady 
Mary ;  "  he  would  look  quite  lovely  in  gaiters."  But 
Lady  Alary  only  smiled  at  this  frivolous  remark,  though 
it  was  her  private  opinion  that  Heath  Leigh  would  one 
day  have  a  bishopric  offered  him. 

"  He  was  born  under  a  lucky  star,"  she  observed 
once,  "  and  he  has  that  infinite  capacity  for  taking  pains 
which  they  call  genius.  Was  it  not  Carlyle  who  said 
something  of  the  kind?  It  is  my  belief  that,  if  he  had 
been  a  politician  instead  of  taking  holy  orders,  he  would 
have  ended  his  days  as  prime  minister."  And  Lady 
Mary  really  meant  what  she  said. 

Wanda,  who  was  a  year  younger  than  Vere,  was 
rather  like  her  father  in  outward  appearance,  though 
she  had  her  mother's  reticent  nature.  She  had  a  hand- 
some little  face  and  dark  hair,  which  she  wore  in  a 
wide  plait  to  her  waist.  Jessica — alias  Bill — was  not 
such  a  good-looking  child,  but  in  spite  of  her  freckles 
and  snub  nose  she  was  rather  an  interesting  little  person. 
She  had  curly  fair  hair,  and  mischievous  blue  eyes,  which 
could  be  very  irresistible  at  times.  Bill,  as  they  called 
her,  was  her  brothers'  torment  and  delight.  She  played 
monkeyish  tricks  which  goaded  them  to  fury,  but  when 
she  was  on  her  good  behaviour  and  tilings  went  smoothly, 
Bill  could  be  angelic  enough. 

No  one  but  her  father  could  really  control  her.  With 
him  she  was  always  docile  and  amenable ;  but  Silence, 
though  a  devoted  mother,  sometimes  failed  to  understand 
her. 

Some  months  previously,  Heath  Leigh  had  found 
his  wife  in  tears.  Jessica  had  been  very  naughty  over 
her  lessons,  and  she  could  do  nothing  with  her.  She 
had  been  so  pert  and  rude  that  she  had  been  obliged 
to  send  her  to  her  room. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  teach  her  any 
longer,"  she  continued  sadly.     "  I  endeavour  to  do  my 


132  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

best  and  be  patient  with  her,  but  she  tries  me  so  terribly. 
I  am  afraid  Jessica  does  not  love  me,  as  all  the  other 
children   do." 

"  Nonsense,  dear;  Jess  is  a  very  affectionate  little 
person.  But  she  is  at  a  troublesome  age,  and  being  so 
much  with  the  boys  has  made  her  rough  and  hoydenish. 
She  will  come  all  right  in  time." 

"  But  Wanda  was  with  the  boys  too,  and  she  has 
never  been  the  least  rough  or  unmanageable." 

"  No,  indeed,  Wanda  has  a  different  temperament — 
at  least  you  have  one  prettily-behaved  daughter!"  And 
then  Heath  smiled  at  his  wife  and  went  off  to  interview 
the  culprit. 

He  found  Jess  at  the  open  window  whistling  to  an 
enraptured  robin ;  but  she  broke  off  directly  she  saw 
her  father  and  knit  her  brows  together  pettishly. 

"  Of  course  she's  told  you,  Dad !  "  Then  Heath  laid 
his  white  massive  hand  on  the  rough  mane.  "  Who  is 
she,  little  bear  ?  "     Then  Jess  grew  suddenly  red. 

"  Oh,  you  know  who  I  mean,  Daddy.  Of  course 
mother  has  gone  and  told  you  I  was  naughty !  " 

"  And  all  the  time  you  were  really  good  ?  Dear  me, 
what  an  ill-used  little  bear!  I  must  set  this  right  with 
your  mother  at  once."  But  as  Canon  Leigh  moved  to 
the  door,  Jess  followed  him  and  begged  him  not  to  go. 

"  But  I  can't  have  you  punished  for  nothing,  Jess ! 
it  is  quite  against  my  principles."  Then  a  hot  little 
hand  clutched  his  sleeve. 

"  It  wasn't  for  nothing,  Dad.  I  was  naughty  t<J 
mother  really " ;  and  here  a  twist  of  the  firm  little 
mouth  showed  that  Jess  was  on  the  verge  of  tears;  and 
a  fatherly  arm  drew  her  closer. 

"Tell  Dad  all  about  it,  darling;  we  shall  neither 
of  us  be  happy  until  you  do."  Then,  with  hidden  face 
and  sobbing  breath,  Jess  made  her  confession.  She 
had  learnt  her  lessons  badly,  and  when  her  mother  had 
told  her  that  she  must  learn  them  again,  she  had  snatched 
the  book  out  of  her  hand  and  said  rude  things. 


"  Who  is  She,  Little  Bear?  "  133 

"  What  sort  of  things  ?  **  Dad  wondered  mildly.  And 
Jess   fidgeted   in   rather  an  embarrassed   manner. 

**  Oh,  she  could  not  quite  remember.  But  she  was 
quite  sure  she  had  been  rude.  She  had  stamped  with 
her  foot  on  the  ground,  and  muttered  out  loud  that  she 
wanted  to  go  to  school  and  learn  with  other  girls,  and 
that  she  did  not  like  lessons  with  mother.  Mother's 
teaching  always  made  her  feel  sleepy  " — and  so  on,  quite 
a  long  list  of  transgressions  for  one  morning.  But 
perhaps  it  was  as  well  that  Jess  did  not  see  the  amused 
twinkle  in  her  father's  eyes.  Jess  as  a  penitent  was  so 
droll !  Her  searching  of  conscience  was  so  thorough — 
no  holes  or  corners  left  unvisited.  But  by  the  time 
Jess  had  finished,  Heath  quite  understood  why  Silence's 
calm  patience  had  broken  down. 

"  There,  Dad,  I  can't  truthfully  remember  any  more." 

"  I  am  rather  glad  to  hear  that,"  returned  her  long- 
suffering  parent  cheerfully.  "  Now,  Jess,  you  know  what 
you  have  to  do  next."  Then  Jess  wriggled  and  squirmed 
like  a  worm  on  a  hook. 

What  was  the  use  of  Dad  being  so  kind  and  under- 
standing if  he  would  not  let  her  off  this  unpleasant 
duty?  He  would  not  kiss  her  or  tell  her  that  he  for- 
gave her  until  she  had  asked  her  mother's  pardon. 
"  You  know  what  you  have  to  do  next,"  w7as  all  he  said, 
but  there  had  been  a  quiet  finality  about  the  words 
that  afforded  Jess  no  loophole  of  escape. 

Now  Jess,  who  could  sin  so  freely  with  her  sharp 
tongue,  was  a  proud  little  soul  and  hated  to  apologise. 
But  in  her  small  world  father  was  the  supreme  ruler, 
and  if  he  ordered  her  to  walk  up  to  a  cannon's  mouth 
Jess  would  have  to  do  it.  So  she  set  her  teeth  hard 
until  they  fairly  ground  together,  and  marched  out  of 
the  room  with  her  chin  in  the  air. 

Silence  was  still  sitting  by  the  open  window.  Her 
head  ached  and  her  eyes  looked  heavy  and  a  little  sad, 
but  she  held  out  a  kind  hand  to  the  culprit. 

"  You  are  come  to  tell  me  you  are  sorry,  dear?  "   But 


134  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Jess  frowned  and  almost  stamped  her  foot  again  with 
irritation.  Why  was  her  mother  forgiving  her  in  this 
silly  way  before  she  had  said  her  apology  ?  Jess  rattled 
it  off  quite  feverishly  in  her  hurry  to  obey  father. 

"  1  was  very  rude  and  naughty,  and  I  am  sorry, 
mother,  and  hope  you  will  forgive  me."  Then  Silence 
put  her  arms  round  the  stubborn  little  figure. 

"  Jess  darling,  mother  forgives  you,  and  always  will : 
but  she  is  very  unhappy  because  her  little  girl  does  not 
love  her." 

Jess's  blue  eyes  opened  in  quite  a  startled  way.  That 
fond,  mournful  tone  penetrated  the  wilful  little  heart. 
The  next  moment  she  was  on  her  mother's  lap  and  her 
thin  little  arms  were  round  Silence's  neck. 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  do  love  you !  How  can  you  say 
that  because  I  like  being  rude  sometimes !  " 

"  Do  you  like  hurting  me,  Jess  ?  I  told  your  father 
that  I  could  not  go  on  teaching  you — that  you  give 
me   too   much    trouble." 

"  But  I  never  will  again — never,  never !  "  and  Jess 
kissed  her  mother's  cheek  remorsefully.  "  I  will  have 
my  lessons  perfect  to-morrow — you  will  see  if  I  don't !  " 
And  Jess  kept  her  word. 

Silence  had  very  little  trouble  with  her  after  that. 
Now  and  then  Jess  lost  her  temper  and  forgot  her  man- 
ners, "  but  she  soon  got  rid  of  Mr.  Devil,"  as  she  used 
to  say  in  her  childish  days.  "  Mr.  Devil  has  gone  and 
I  am  good  now,  nurse."  she  would  observe  in  the  most 
matter-of-fact  way,  which  rather  appalled  that  worthy 
woman. 

Jess  sat  opposite  her  aunt,  looking  at  her  with  ador- 
ing eyes.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  for  a  long, 
long  time.  Aunt  Joan,"  she  said.  "  T  lav  awake  think- 
ing about  it  last  night  till  quite  late,  it  made  me  so 
happy.  And  Wanda  is  glad  too,  though  she  does  not 
talk   about   it." 

Joan  smiled  lovingly  at  her  nieces.  She  was  very 
fond  of  them — thev  were  such   dear  children — but  the 


"Who  is  She,  Little  Bear?"  135 

parting  with  Lady  Mary  still  depressed  her.  And  Heath, 
who  instinctively  guessed  her  feelings,  called  off  Jess's 
attentions  by  pointing  out  one  of  her  special  playfellows 
who  was  coming  out  of  the  stationer's  as  they  drove 
past. 

Even  Joan,  in  spite  of  her  preoccupation,  looked 
about  her  with  a  sense  of  quickened  interest. 

It  was  a  lovely  spring  afternoon.  The  little  square, 
with  its  monument  and  quaint  picturesque  streets,  was 
quite  crowded  with  motors,  gigs,  and  light  carts — all 
the  St.  Breda's  folks  were  out  shopping,  gossiping, 
drinking  tea ;  dogs  were  barking,  hooters  sounding,  every 
now  and  then  a  motor  dashed  up  the  narrow,  steep  little 
straggling  street,  with  its  old  houses  and  overhanging 
windows.  The  next  moment  they  passed  through  the 
beautiful  old  gateway  into  the  Precincts,  and  the  glorious 
Cathedral,  with  its  massive  grey  towers  and  graceful 
pinnacles,  rose  before  Joan's  admiring  eyes — solemn, 
calm,  majestic  in  the  sunshine.  It  was  like  a  wonderful 
dream,  thought  the  girl.  And  all  around  it  was  a  peace- 
ful environment — quiet  old  houses  and  rows  of  shady 
trees,  and  a  little  green  where  some  boys  were  playing. 
Farther  on  were  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  infirmary — 
fragments  of  massive  walls  and  picturesque  arches, 
through  which  the  passer-by  had  a  glimpse  of  St.  Breda's 
Lodge.  In  the  delicate  tracery  of  one  some  tiny  bird 
was  pecking  at  the  yellow  stone,  the  martins  were  flying 
in  and  out  of  their  nests,  and  from  a  garden  near  a  thrush 
was  fluting  melodiously  to  his  mate. 

"  I  forgot  how  beautiful  it  was,"  murmured  Joan  in 
an  awe-struck  voice. 

"  You  only  saw  it  in  winter,"  returned  her  brother, 
"  and  I  remember  the  weather  was  dark  and  gloomy. 
But  you  have  no  idea  how  the  beauty  of  it  all  grows 
on  one."  and  Heath's  fine  strong  face  lighted  up  as 
he  spoke.  "  If  one  could  only  live  up  to  it,  Joan — if 
one  only  deserved  this  goodly  heritage !  "  And  Joan, 
who  was  always  quick  to  respond  to  any  emotion,  gave 


136  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

his  arm  a  loving  little  squeeze.  At  that  moment  she 
realised  how  proud  she  was  of  him. 

"  There's  mother!"  exclaimed  Jessica  delightedly,  as 
they  drove  in.  And  then  in  a  loud  aside  to  her  sister, 
"Look,  Wanda,  doesn't  she  look  nice;  she  has  put  on 
her  newest  best  dress  in  Aunt  Joan's  honour!  " 

"  Hush,  Bill,  how  can  you  be  so  silly — Aunt  Joan 
will  hear!"  But  Jess  took  no  notice  of  this  repressive 
speech. 

As  the  fly  stopped,  Silence  stood  quietly  in  the  door- 
way, with  the  afternoon  sunshine  streaming  on  her  fair 
Madonna  face  and  smooth  brown  hair. 

"  You  have  not  been  looking  out  for  us  long,  Silence," 
observed  Joan,  "  the  train  was  quite  punctual  for  once." 
But  even  as  she  said  this  she  was  wondering  why  Silence's 
greeting  was  so  much  more  affectionate  than  usual. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  are  not  in  the  least  late.  But  how  tired 
you  look,  Joan.  Tea  will  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  I  mean  to  take  you  to  your  room  at  once." 

"May  Wanda  and  I  come  too,  mummie?"  But 
Silence  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  dear ;  I  think  Aunt  Joan  would  be  glad  of 
a  few  minutes'  quiet.  And  there  is  only  time  to  make 
yourself  tidy  for  tea."  And  Jess,  who  was  always  on 
her  best  behaviour  in  her  father's  presence,  only  shrugged 
her  shoulders  pettishly  as  she  followed  Wanda  to  the 
room  they  shared  together. 


XVI 

SILENCE 

The  mother  is  the  real  home-maker.  It  is  her  sweet  life  that 
gives  the  home  its  atmosphere.  It  is  through  her  love  that  God 
comes  first  to  her  little  children.  The  Rabbis  used  to  say,  "  God 
could  not  be  everywhere,  and  therefore  He  made  mothers."  The 
thought  is  very  beautiful. — J.  R.  Miller. 

Silence  is  the  best  resolve  for  him  who  distrusts  himself. — 
La  Rochefoucaulb. 

Silence  had  been  a  very  handsome  girl  when  Heath 
Leigh  had  fallen  in  love  with  her  and  determined  to 
make  her  his  wife.  And  she  was  still  a  striking-looking 
woman,  though  critical  people  would  complain  that  her 
face  was  wanting  in  expression,  and  that  even  statuesque 
beauty  needed  a  little  animation.  But  they  would  not 
have  said  this  if  they  had  seen  her  with  her  husband 
and  children.  Quiet  as  she  undoubtedly  was  even  with 
them,  there  was  a  sweetness  in  her  smile  and  tenderness 
in  her  thoughtful  grey  eyes  which  were  as  eloquent  as 
speech.  Silence  had  never  been  slim  even  as  a  girl — 
she  had  been  cast  in  a  generous  mould — and  her  finely- 
proportioned  figure  had  grown  more  massive,  so  that  she 
fully  looked  her  thirty-six  years.  Her  chief  drawback, 
and  one  which  she  strove  vainly  to  overcome,  was  her 
excessive  shyness  with  strangers  or  in  the  company  of 
people  who  were  not  congenial  to  her.  Lady  Dorothy 
could  have  sympathized  with  her  on  this  point.  But  in 
very  truth  it  must  be  conceded  that  Lady  Dorothy's 
essays  at  conversation  were  brilliant  in  comparison  with 
Silence's.  CaMs  were  Lenten  penance  to  her  soul ;  a 
neighbourly  tea-party  deprived  the  fairest  afternoon  of 
its  charm. 

"  If  I  had  only  a  grown-up  daughter  whom  I  could 

137 


138  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

take  with  me !  "  she  said  once  to  her  husband.  "  Even 
now  Wanda  is  so  nicely  behaved,  and  not  a  bit  shy,  for 
all  people  say  about  her  being  so  quiet." 

"  Oh,  Wanda's  all  right,"  was  his  reply.  "  She  is  a 
very  observant  young  person — we  shall  be  proud  of  her 
some  day.  I  wish  I  could  spare  time  to  go  to  the  Deanery 
with  you  this  afternoon,  love,  but  I  have  the  proofs  of 
that  pamphlet  to  correct."  Silence  looked  quite  shocked 
at  the  idea. 

"  As  though  I  would  dream  of  such  a  thing,  dear ! 
I  was  only  grumbling  because  it  is  such  a  lovely  after- 
noon and  the  children  wanted  me  to  take  them  for  a 
walk.  And  the  Deanery  drawing-room  will  be  so  hot 
and  crowded,  and  I  shall  feel  stupid  and  headachy  as 
usual.  But  there,  I  will  not  keep  you  from  your  work, 
Heath  " ;  and  Silence  went  off  to  perform  her  penance. 

"Is  that  the  new  Canon's  wife?"  asked  one  lady  of 
her  hostess. 

"  Yes,  that  is  Mrs.  Leigh.  Would  you  like  me  to 
introduce  you  to  her  ?  " 

"  Yes — no,  I  think  not.  I  believe  I  introduced  myself 
just  now — she  seemed  so  out  in  the  cold — but  she  cer- 
tainly did  not  respond  very  graciously  to  my  advances." 

"  Oh,  that  is  only  her  manner,"  returned  Mrs. 
Harding  good-naturedly.  "  Airs.  Leigh  is  a  shy  woman 
— her  husband  told  me  so.  She  is  one  of  those  people 
who  are  worth  knowing  if  one  only  penetrates  through 
the  crust." 

"  I  thought  her  very  handsome,"  returned  Mrs.  Radly 
— such  an  uncommon  type;  but  I  could  not  make  way 
and  our  conversation  died  a  natural  death."  Then  Mrs. 
Harding  laughed. 

"  Oh,  you  must  try  again,  Diana !  I  always  do  feel 
so  sorry  for  shy  people.  I  am  quite  sure  they  go  through 
a  martyrdom  in  their  quiet  way.  But  there  I  see  the 
Dean  beckoning  to  me — T  expect  some  more  guests  have 
arrived  "  ;  and  Mrs.  Harding  hurried  away. 

Canon  Leigh  had  lunched  at  the  Deanery  a  few  weeks 


Silence  139 

before  he  took  up  his  residence  at  St.  Breda's  Lodge,  and 
had  conceived  the  happy  idea  of  enlisting  the  sympathy 
of  the  Dean's  wife  on  behalf  of  Silence. 

"  My  wife  is  painfully  shy  with  strangers,"  he  said 
when  he  was  alone  with  her  after  luncheon,  "  and  I  am 
afraid  she  will  find  herself  a  little  out  of  it  at  first." 
Then  Mrs.  Harding,  who  was  a  good  soul,  promised  to 
hold  out  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  to  Mrs.  Leigh,  and 
to  make  things  as  comfortable  as  possible  for  her.  And 
she  had  certainly  kept  her'  word. 

Canon  Leigh  knew  perfectly  well  his  wife's  limita- 
tions— it  was  very  unlikely  that  she  would  ever  be  popu- 
lar in  the  Precincts — but  he  knew  that  she  would  do  her 
best  for  his  sake ;  and  as  he  read  Lady  Mary's  letter, 
he  told  himself  that  Joan's  long  visit  would  be  a  godsend 
to  Silence,  as  she  could  go  out  with  her  and  pilot  her 
through  her  social  difficulties. 

"  There  is  really  no  reason  why  they  should  not  pull 
together  comfortably  for  five  or  six  months,"  he  went 
on,  with  a  man's  easy  optimism.  "  Silence  is  so  sorry 
for  the  girl,  and  means  to  be  kind  to  her.  If  only  Joan 
shows  a  little  tact  and  discretion !  I  should  like  to  give 
her  a  word  when  she  comes.  But  no,  on  second  thought, 
it  is  better  to  leave  it — it  might  only  put  her  back  up." 
But  as  Heath  sat  down  to  his  writing-table,  it  was  a  fore- 
gone conclusion  that,  if  friction  should  ensue,  his  sympa- 
thies would  be  enlisted  on  his  wife's  side,  and  that  Joan 
would  be  put  in  her  place. 

Joan  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  any  lack  of 
welcome  that  afternoon.  Silence's  kiss  had  been  warm 
and  sisterly,  and  she  had  insisted  on  sending  the  little 
girls  away  while  she  herself  conducted  Joan  to  her  room. 

St.  Breda's  Lodge,  with  its  wide  staircase  and  spacious 
hall  and  handsome,  well-proportioned  reception-rooms, 
was  a  striking  contrast  to  the  old  Rectory,  though  there 
was  still  the  same  homelike  atmosphere  which  denoted 
the  presence  of  a  home-loving  woman.  The  drawing- 
room,  which  was  on  the  first  floor,  had  rather  alarmed 


140  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Silence,  with  its  suggestions  of  social  gatherings.  But 
it  was  such  a  charming  room,  with  such  pleasant  views 
from  the  windows,  that  she  soon  grew  to  love  it,  and 
had  her  own  little  corner,  as  she  had  in  every  other  room, 
even  in  her  husband's  study.  Heath  would  not  have  been 
satisfied  if  the  little  work-table  and  low  chair,  and  glass 
screen  to  shield  her  from  the  blaze,  had  not  found  their 
accustomed  place  there. 

The  room  set  apart  for  Joan's  use  was  small,  but 
extremely  bright  and  cheerful.  A  low  window  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  side  garden,  with  its  long  trim  lawn 
and  wide  borders  filled  with  herbaceous  plants.  A  green 
door  opened  into  a  walled  kitchen  garden. 

"  I  thought  you  meant  Wanda  to  have  this  room  ?  " 
observed  Joan  in  a  tone  of  pleased  surprise.  "  You  cer- 
tainly said  so  at  Christmas." 

"  Yes,  but  Heath  thought  the  old  nursery  made  such 
a  pleasant  bedroom,  and  that  there  was  no  need  for 
Wanda  to  have  a  room  for  herself,  especially  as  Jess  is 
so  timid  about  sleeping  alone." 

"  That  has  always  surprised  me,"  returned  Joan,  with 
an  admiring  glance  at  the  toilet-cover.  She  knew  the 
exquisite  drawn-thread  border  was  the  work  of  Silence's 
skilful  fingers.  Her  lace  and  embroidery  filled  Joan  with 
secret  envy.    Work  was  Silence's  one  accomplishment. 

"  Yes,  and  I  used  to  worry  about  it.  But  we  have 
found  out  the  cause,  Joan.  Leah,  that  red-haired  house- 
maid who  lived  with  us  so  long,  was  not  as  trustworthy 
as  we  thought,  and  when  nurse  was  out,  and  Leah  had  to 
put  Jess  to  bed,  she  told  her  silly  tales  of  bogies  and 
nonsense.  The  moment  we  found  it  out.  Heath  packed 
off  the  girl  at  once.  But  the  mischief  was  done,  and  Jess 
flatly  refuses  to  sleep  alone,  and  she  will  have  a  light  in 
the  room  too  until  Wanda  goes  to  bed." 

"  What  a  pity."  observed  Joan  thoughtfully,  and  her 
sympathy  induced  Silence  to  enlarge  on  the  subject. 

"  I  have  tried  to  reason  with  Jess,  and  Heath  has 
talked.      But  we   have  neither  of  us   done   much   good. 


Silence  141 

Jess  declares  that  she  doesn't  really  believe  in  bogies, 
not  one  little  bit,  but  that  she  could  not  forget  Leah's 
stories,  and  that  the  dark  made  her  miserable.  So  we 
must  just  wait  until  she  grows  more  sensible." 

Joan  nodded  and  smiled  as  she  smoothed  her  hair, 
and  there  was  a  brief  silence.  A  minute  later  she  said 
in  her  quick  way : 

"  Silence,  dear,  you  and  Heath  were  very  good  to 
have  me  like  this  at  a  moment's  notice.  I  do  hope  that 
I  shall  not  be  a  trouble  to  you." 

A  faint  flush  crossed  Silence's  face.  "  Why  should 
you  be  a  trouble,  dear?  I  am  sure  Heath  and  I  will 
do  all  in  our  power  to  make  you  happy.  Joan,  I  don't 
know  how  to  say  it,  but  ever  since  Lady  Mary's  letter 
came  I  have  felt  so  sorry  for  you  both." 

"  I  don't  think  Heath  ought  to  have  shown  you  that 
letter,"  returned  the  girl  in  a  low  voice.  But  she  stiffened 
visibly,  and  again  Silence  flushed. 

"  My  husband  never  keeps  anything  from  me,"  were 
the  words  which  rose  to  her  lips.  But  she  forebore  to 
utter  them.  She  only  said  quietly :  "  He  knew  that  any- 
thing that  concerned  our  sister  would  interest  me,"  and 
this  prettily-worded  speech  touched  Joan. 

"  Thank  you,  Silence,  dear.  Yes,  I  suppose  he  had  to 
talk  things  over  with  you.  But  when  one  is  sore  and 
unhappy,  everything  seems  to  jar.  I  can't  feel  that  I  can 
talk  about  it,  even  to  Heath — it  has  just  to  be  borne." 
And  there  was  such  pain  in  Joan's  voice  that  Silence 
quite  yearned  to  comfort  her. 

"  I  think  I  understand,  dear,"  she  said  slowly. 
"  When  one  feels  very  deeply  about  a  thing,  words  seem 
so  useless.     One  has  just  to  live  through  the  pain." 

"  That  is  just  it,"  returned  Joan  hastily.  "  But  I 
know  how  kind  you  both  mean  to  be  to  me."  And  then 
she  walked  to  the  window  as  though  to  dismiss  the 
subject,  and  as  at  that  moment  the  tea-bell  rang,  Silence 
had  no  opportunity  of  saying  more. 

"  It  was  nice  of  her  to  say  that,"  thought  Joan.     "  I 


142  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

daresay  it  has  been  my  own  fault,  bnt  I  certainly  never 
found  Silence  so  affectionate  and  sisterly."  And  Joan 
registered  a  private  vow  that  this  time  she  would  do  all 
in  her  power  to  keep  the  peace. 

After  tea  the  three  boys  and  Jess  went  off  to  play 
cricket  on  the  little  green  before  the  house,  and  Joan 
retired  to  her  room  to  unpack  her  trunks.  Wanda  accom- 
panied her.  Wanda  was  a  very  neat-handed  little  person, 
and  her  father  used  laughingly  to  call  her  "  Fairy  Order." 
Joan,  who  was  somewhat  casual  in  her  arrangements, 
secretly  marvelled  at  her  young  niece's  methodical  and 
old-fashioned  ways. 

"  You  have  creased  that  lovely  white  silk.  Aunt 
Joan !  "  she  exclaimed  presently.  "I  think  we  had  better 
hang  it  up  in  the  spare  room  wardrobe — it  is  quite  empty. 
If  you  will  wait  a  moment,  I  will  run  and  ask  mother." 
And  Wanda  went  off  with  a  flushed  and  serious  face  to 
.state  the  difficulty. 

"  Aunt  Joan's  wardrobe  is  not  big,  and  she  has 
brought  so  many  things  it  is  quite  full,  and  so  is  the 
chest  of  drawers ;  there  is  not  room  really,  mother,  and 
there  are  all  those  evening  dresses." 

Silence  was  quite  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"■'  Hang  them  all  in  the  spare  room  wardrobe,  we  are 
not  expecting  any  visitors  just  now."  And  then  Wanda 
with  a  relieved  air  went  back  to  her  work. 

"  She  is  your  own  daughter,  love,"  observed  Heath, 
who  had  overheard  this  brief  colloquy.  "  One  of  these 
days  Wanda  will  make  as  excellent  a  wife  and  house- 
keeper  as  her  mother."  Heath  was  always  paying  these 
little  lover-like  compliments;  perhaps  he  liked  to  see 
Silence's  eyes  grow  bright  and  soft  with  pleasure.  She 
rarely  responded  in  words,  but  she  never  forgot  one  of 
those  speeches,  but  kept  them  hoarded  up  in  her  memory. 

When  all  was  ship-shape  and  tidy,  Wanda  went  off 
to  feed  her  doves,  and  Joan  sat  down  to  write  to  Lady 
Mary.  Only  a  few  words  had  passed  since  they  had 
parted,  and  yet  there  seemed  so  much  to  say  that  she 


Silence  143 

had  only  just  finished  before  the  dressing-bell — which 
was  also  the  signal  for  the  children's  school-room  supper 
— sounded.  Wanda  presided  over  this  meal,  but  during 
these  holidays  Vere  had  been  invited  to  dine  with  his 
parents. 

Canon  Leigh  never  cared  to  linger  long  over  his  meals, 
and  these  spring  evenings  were  so  light  and  pleasant 
that  he  and  Silence  often  strolled  out  into  the  Precincts 
after  dinner.  But  this  evening  she  made  some  excuse, 
and  he  asked  Joan  to  accompany  him. 

They  strolled  slowly  down  the  flagged  path  leading 
to  the  cloisters,  and  then  turning  to  their  right,  past 
the  baptistery  and  the  door  opening  to  the  Deanery 
gardens,  they  made  their  way  down  a  low  passage  into 
a  wide  court-way — the  handsome  Norman  staircase  lead- 
ing to  one  of  the  school-rooms  of  St.  Breda's  school  was 
opposite  to  them ;  then  turning  round,  they  skirted  the 
wide  green,  where  some  of  the  boys  were  still  playing. 
Here  were  the  houses  of  the  minor  canons. 

Joan  was  about  to  ask  a  question  as  they  were  passing 
a  small  sanatorium  belonging  to  St.  Breda's  school,  when 
Heath  suddenly  cleared  his  throat. 

"  Shall  we  turn  back  to  the  cloisters ;  it  is  quiet  there, 
and  there  is  something  I  want  to  say  to  you  ?  "  And 
Joan,  who  was  extremely  quick-witted,  understood  why 
Silence  had  made  that  excuse  and  refused  to  accompany 
them. 

"  I  am  rather  tired,  Heath  ;  could  we  not  wait  until 
to-morrow  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  I  would  not  tire  you  for  worlds ;  but  it 
seems  strange,  does  it  not,  that  some  word  should  not 
pass  between  us  on  this  very  unpleasant  business?" 

"  I  don't  think  talking  is  likely  to  mend  matters," 
returned  Joan  ungraciously. 

"  No,  my  dear,  probably  not,"  replied  her  brother 
quietly ;  "  but  all  the  same  I  want  you  to  feel  how  glad 
Silence  and  I  are  to  have  you  with  us.  It  has  always 
seemed  to  me  that  my  home  ought  to  have  been  yours, 


144  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

but  as  long  as  you  were  happy,  Joan,  I  did  not  grudge 
you  to  Lady  Mary." 

"  One  cannot  be  always  happy  in  this  world,"  replied 
the  girl  sadly.  "  You  and  Silence  are  very  kind,  and  1 
do  not  mean  to  be  ungrateful,  but  there  can  be  no  home 
so  dear  to  me  as  Morningside."  Then  he  gave  her  a 
quick,  penetrating  look. 

"  I  know  it,  Joan.  But  I  am  sure  you  realise  as  much 
as  we  do  that  it  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  go  back 
as  long  as  Captain  Bastow  is  at  Aldershot." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not."  But  Joan  spoke  rather  sullenly  ; 
she  was  in  no  mood  for  the  conversation.  The  cloisters 
were  dull  and  gloomy,  and  by  mutual  consent  they  had 
re-entered  the  Precincts. 

"  It  is  very  wrong  that  you  should  be  placed  in  such 
a  position,"  Heath  went  on,  "  and  we  all  feel  it  deeply  on 
your  and  on  Lady  Mary's  account.  I  consider  Captain 
Bastow  has  been  extremely  selfish,  and  I  fear  I  am  not 
in  perfect  charity  with  him." 

Joan  stood  still  on  the  flagged  pathway.  A  fair  little 
moon  had  just  risen  and  its  faint  beams  were  irradiating 
the  ruined  arches. 

*' ileath,  I  cannot  bear  this!  Unless  you  wish  to 
add  to  my  trouble,  you  must  not  say  hard  things  of 
Craig.     He  has  done  nothing  wrong." 

"  My  dear  Joan  !  " 

"  He  has  made  a  mistake,  for  which  we  are  all  suffer- 
ing— he  and  I  and  my  dear  Lady  Mary — but  it  is  no 
fault  of  his,  only  his  misfortune,  that  he  has  fallen  in 
love  with  the  wrong  person.  He  is  brave  and  generous 
and  true — the  truest-hearted  man  I  know — and  yet  you 
are  all  against  him.  It  is  not  fair — it  is  not  right," 
continued  the  girl  passionately,  "  and  I  will  not  listen  to 
you,  Heath!  You  mean  well,  but  we  do  not  see  things 
i-i  the  same  light — and  I  am  too  tired  to  talk  any  more!  " 
And  before  Heath  could  recover  from  his  astonishment 
Joan  turned  quickly  in  at  the  gate  of  St.  Breda's  Lodge 
and  made  her  way  to  her  own  room. 


Silence  145 

"  Do  you  think  she  cares  for  him?"  he  asked,  when 
he  had  repeated  this  conversation  to  his  wife.  Silence 
had  listened  quietly,  without  offering  any  interruption. 
She  had  told  him  that  Joan  seemed  weary  and  sad,  and 
had  begged  him  to  postpone  his  talk,  but  she  would  not 
remind  him  of  this. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  that  this  should  occur  the  first 
evening,  dearest,"  she  said  gravely. 

"  Oh,  so  am  I,  and  I  was  a  fool  not  to  take  your 
advice.     But  you  have  not  answered  my  question." 

"  I  am  not  sure  I  can  answer  it.  But  I  very  much 
fear  she  does  care  for  Captain  Bastow,  though  she  does 
not  mean  us  to  know  it." 

Canon  Leigh  gave  vent  to  a  low  whistle  of  dismay. 
"  It  is  a  worse  muddle  than  I  thought,"  he  muttered. 
And  again  he  lamented  that  he  had  not  taken  his  wife's 
advice. 


If 


XVII 

CRYPTIC  PROWLS 

Architecture  is  frozen  music. — Schelling. 

She  was  soothed  into  that  wide-gazing  calm  which  makes  us 
older  human  beings,  with  our  inward  turmoil,  feel  a  certain 
awe  in  the  presence  of  a  little  child,  such  as  we  feel  before  some 
quiet  majesty  or  beauty  in  the  earth  or  sky,  or  before  a  steady 
glowing  planet,  or  a  full-flowered  eglantine,  or  the  bending  trees 
over  a  silent  pathway. — George  Eliot. 

Canon  Leigh  sent  a  kind,  brotherly  message  to  Joan 
by  his  wife  later  on,  and  Silence  willingly  undertook 
the  errand.  "  Tell  her  that  I  am  sorry  that  I  bothered 
her  with  talk  when  she  was  so  tired,  and  she  is  to  put  it 
all  out  of  her  head  and  go  to  sleep ;  and  give  her  my 
love." 

Silence  found  Joan  standing  before  the  toilet-table. 
She  had  just  removed  her  hat  and  was  smoothing  her 
roughened  hair. 

"  Oh,  why  did  you  trouble,  Silence !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  was  just  coming  down  to  wish  you  and  Heath  good- 
night."   Then  Silence  delivered  her  husband's  message. 

"  There  is  no  need  for  you  to  come  down,  Joan  dear. 
You  had  far  better  go  to  bed  and  have  a  nice  long  sleep  ;  " 
and  Silence's  tone  was  so  motherly  that  it  might  have 
been  addressed  to  Wanda. 

Joan,  who  had  repented  of  her  hastiness,  was  secretly 
touched  by  this  consideration.  "  I  am  tired,  certainly, 
so  I  think  I  will  take  your  advice,"  she  returned.  "  Will 
you  give  Heath  my  love,  and  tell  him,  please,  that  I 
did  not  mean  to  be  ungracious.  I  only  ran  away  because 
I  really  could  not  talk  any  more,  and  he  was  worrying 
me  so  dreadfully." 

"  I  don't  think  I  will  tell  him  that." 

146 


Cryptic  Prowls  147 

"  No,  of  course  not.  That  last  clause  was  only  an 
aside,  and  not  included  in  the  message.  But  you  may 
tell  him,  if  you  like,  that  though  he  meant  to  be  kind  and 
help  me,  it  would  be  far  wiser  to  leave  me  alone."  And 
as  Silence  gave  a  grave  nod  of  assent  to  this,  Joan  con- 
tinued hurriedly : 

"  It  would  be  doing  me  a  real  kindness  if  you  could 
make  him  understand  this.  I  have  quite  enough  to  bear 
as  it  is,  but  it  only  adds  to  my  unhappiness  to  see  how 
unjust  they  all  are  to  Craig.  They  think  he  is  to  blame, 
and  call  him  selfish  and  inconsiderate — even  my  dear 
Lady  Mary  is  hard  on  him — and  it  makes  me  so  angry 
that  I  am  obliged  to  take  his  part." 

"  Yes,  I  see  what  you  mean."  But  something  in, 
Silence's  manner  brought  an  uneasy  flush  to  the  girl's 
face. 

"  No  one  need  wonder  at  that,"  she  continued  hastily. 
"  We  are  such  old  friends,  Craig  and  I — for  years  we 
have  been  chums — it  is  only  natural  that  I  should  try  to 
defend  him  when  people  are  so  unjust  to  him.  I  would 
do  as  much  for  any  one — a  mere  acquaintance ;  but  for  a 
real  friend  like  Craig "  and  here  the  proud  young- 
voice  grew  strangely  soft. 

"  Don't  trouble  about  it  any  more,"  returned  Silence 
gently.  "  I  think  I  can  make  Heath  understand.  Go  to 
bed  as  quickly  as  you  can,  for  you  are  quite  worn  out, 
my  dear;  and  perhaps  things  will  look  a  little  brighter 
to-morrow."  But,  though  Joan  made  no  answer  to  this,. 
she  gave  Silence  a  grateful  kiss. 

Poor  child,  such  a  wave  of  home-sickness  and  heart- 
sickness  swept  over  her  when  she  was  left  alone  that  she 
could  only  weep.  But  the  tears  relieved  her,  and  as  soon 
as  she  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow  she  fell  asleep  from 
pure  weariness. 

Silence's  face  was  a  little  grave  as  she  went  her 
rounds  among  her  sleeping  children,  for  she  never  retired 
to  rest  without  performing  this  sacred  duty.  Any  restless 
little  being  unable  to  sleep  would  watch  for  mother's. 


148  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

step  and  shaded  lamp.  The  next  moment  she  would  he 
turned  and  bed-clothes  straightened ;  if  necessary,  the 
burning  face  and  hands  sponged.  "  Now  you  are  comfy, 
darling  ?  Lie  still  and  the  angel  will  come  to  you  by  and 
by."  For  this  pretty  little  legend  of  the  Angel  of  Sleep 
had  been  Wanda's  childish  invention.  "When  will  the 
sleepy  angel  come,  mummie  ?  "  she  used  to  say  in  her 
baby  days ;  "  I  do  want  her  to  cuddle  me." 

"  Joan  certainly  cares  for  Craig  Bastow,"  Silence 
said  to  herself ;  "  her  voice  betrayed  her  to-night.  She 
is  not  only  fretting  for  Morningside  and  Lady  Mary, 
there  is  another  cause  for  her  unhappiness.  She  has 
refused  him ;  but  if  I  am  right  and  she  really  loves 
him,  she  has  behaved  like  a  heroine." 

Silence  certainly  felt  an  added  respect  for  her  young 
sister-in-law  that  evening.  Their  temperamental  differ- 
ences were  so  great  that  she  had  never  really  understood 
her,  and  she  had  never  guessed  at  the  hidden  depths  of 
the  girl's  nature.  Joan  was  so  tactless  and  trying,  she 
trampled  so  ruthlessly  on  other's  people's  pet  hobbies 
and  fancies,  her  high  spirits  were  so  buoyant  and  her 
tongue  so  sharp-edged,  that  Silence  had  shrunk  into  her 
shell  and  left  her  severely  alone.  But  this  Joan  with  the 
sad,  pathetic  eyes  was  quite  a  different  person. 

If  Silence  could  have  followed  the  dictates  of  her  kind 
heart  she  would  have  taken  the  girl  in  her  motherly  arms 
and  tried  to  comfort  her.  But  she  was  not  sure  that 
Joan  would  permit  this.  "  She  has  always  kept  me  at  a 
distance,"  she  thought  sorrowfully ;  "  she  would  not  care 
for  me  to  be  too  demonstrative.  But  all  the  same  I  shall 
do  all  I  can  to  shield  her  from  annoyance.  My  dear 
Heath  is  a  clever  man,  but  I  think  in  these  matters 
women  understand  each  other  best,  and  it  will  be  far 
wiser  for  him  to  leave  her  alone." 

Strange  to  say,  though  Silence  was  so  full  of  sym- 
pathy for  Joan,  it  never  entered  her  head  for  a  moment 
that  this  unfortunate  love  affair  could  ever  end  happily. 
Joan  had  behaved  exceedingly  well — far  better  than  she 


Cryptic  Prowls  149 

would  ever  have  expected — but,  after  all,  she  had  only  done 
her  duty.  Even  if  she  returned  Craig  Bastow's  affection, 
it  would  have  been  quite  impossible  for  her  to  accept  his 
offer  in  defiance  of  all  his  people's  objections.  Such  a 
marriage  would  only  prove  disastrous,  and  Joan  would 
never  be  happy  under  such  circumstances.  To  have  all 
her  husband's  relations  looking  down  on  her  and  holding 
aloof  from  her — how  could  Joan's  proud  spirit  brook 
that !  They  would  never  forgive  her  for  spoiling  Craig's 
prospects — for  Silence  knew  something  of  the  Merriton 
troubles. 

"  We  must  just  try  to  distract  her  thoughts  and  make 
her  as  happy  as  we  can,"  she  observed  to  her  husband 
when  she  gave  him  that  word  of  advice  about  leaving 
Joan  alone  for  the  present. 

"  I  think  I  shall  take  her  to  Kenvvyn  to-morrow  after- 
noon to  call  on  Mrs.  Ramsay;  she  and  Joan  have  mutual 
friends  at  Herondale  Rectory."  And  Heath  applauded 
this  resolution. 

But  this  little  plan  for  Joan's  entertainment  proved  a 
failure,  for  Canon  Ramsay  and  his  wife  had  gone  up  to 
town  for  the  day. 

It  was  Silence's  custom  when  possible  to  attend  the 
ten  o'clock  matins  at  the  Cathedral.  She  said  the  beau- 
tiful, restful  service  seemed  to  help  her  through  the  day. 
She  never  invited  any  one  to  accompany  her,  and  was 
secretly  surprised  when  she  found  Joan  in  front  of  her  in 
the  stalls.  And  after  that  the  girl  was  rarely  absent, 
though  she  never  joined  Silence  either  before  or  after 
service.  Joan  loved  to  roam  about  at  her  own  sweet 
will — to  wander  down  the  grand  nave  with  its  noble 
columns,  or  to  linger  in  the  side  aisles  and  chapels.  But 
most  of  all  the  crypt  fascinated  her.  She  was  never 
weary  of  exploring  it.  The  atmosphere  of  ancient  peace, 
of  historic  memories  and  sacred  associations,  seemed  to 
soothe  her  restlessness.  She  would  sit  for  half-an-hour 
at  a  time  in  the  dim  little  chapel  where  centuries  ago  a 
persecuted  people  had  worshipped.    Joan  would  try  in  a 


150  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

vague  way  to  think  out  the  puzzles  and  bewildering  diffi- 
culties which  had  so  suddenly  confronted  her.  Now  and 
then  when  there  were  no  echoing  footsteps  to  be  heard, 
she  would  put  up  a  brief  prayer  for  guidance  and  patience, 
for  strength  to  bear  a  pain  which  sometimes  seemed  to 
be  unbearable.  How  her  Guardian  Angel  must  have  loved 
to  hear  these  faltering  petitions !  Those  quiet  commun- 
ings with  her  better  nature  always  did  Joan  good,  and 
she  would  return  to  St.  Breda's  Lodge  with  a  brighter 
face.  On  these  occasions  her  letters  to  Morningside 
were  so  brave  and  healthy,  in  spite  of  an  undercurrent 
of  sadness,  that  Lady  Mary  would  lay  them  down  with 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Dear  child,  she  is  certainly  doing  her  best  to  be 
good  and  brave,"  she  thought.  And  the  answer  which 
reached  Joan  always  rewarded  her  for  her  efforts. 

One  morning,  just  as  service  was  about  to  commence, 
Joan  saw  a  prim,  pretty-looking  little  woman  slip  rather 
shyly  into  the  opposite  stall.  Joan  wondered  who  she 
could  be — if  she  were  only  a  stranger  from  the  town  or 
if  she  belonged  to  the  Precincts.  She  could  not  help 
noticing  her,  she  had  such  a  nice  face  and  looked  so 
peaceful  and  happy.  But  her  curiosity  was  soon  to  be 
satisfied. 

When  service  was  over  and  they  were  descending  the 
steps  that  led  to  the  nave,  Silence  whispered  that  she 
meant  to  go  out  by  the  side  door,  as  she  wanted  to  speak 
to  Mrs.  Ramsay.  "  Perhaps  you  will  come  too,"  she 
suggested,  "  for  I  would  like  to  introduce  you."  And 
Joan  willingly  assented. 

She  found,  however,  that  no  introduction  was  needed ; 
for  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Ramsay  had  greeted  Silence,  she 
held  out  her  hand  in  quite  a  friendly  manner  to  Joan. 

"  I  am  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Miss  Leigh. 
My  nephew  told  me  you  were  at  St.  Breda's  Lodge;  we 
saw  him  the  other  day  in  town.  By  the  bye,  I  was  so 
sorry  to  miss  your  kind  visit,"  turning  to  Silence.  "  x\s 
the  maid  said  there  were  two  ladies,  I  conclude  that 
Miss  Leigh  was  with  you  ?  " 


Cryptic  Prowls  151 

"  Yes,  I  brought  her  as  I  knew  you  had  mutual 
friends." 

*'  Oh,  you  mean  the  Rutherfords  ?  They  are  dear 
people.  I  wonder  " — and  here  Mrs.  Ramsay  spoke  rather 
shyly — '"  whether  you  and  Miss  Leigh  will  waive  cere- 
mony and  have  tea  with  me  to-morrow,  and  we  could 
have  a  nice  talk?  I  must  not  stop  longer  now,  as  I  see 
my  husband  is  waiting  for  me."  Then,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  Silence  accepted  the  invitation. 

"  I  had  thought  of  walking  over  to  Acrefield  with  the 
children  to-morrow  afternoon,"  she  observed,  "but  it 
was  a  pity  to  refuse,  as  Mrs.  Ramsay  was  kind  enough 
to  ask  us.  You  see,  Joan,  I  hardly  know  her  yet,  as  she 
has  only  just  come  to  Kenwyn.  It  was  really  my  first  call 
on  Tuesday ;  I  was  introduced  to  her  by  Mrs.  Harcourt 
when  we  were  all  taking  refuge  from  the  rain  at  Drum- 
mond's  Library,  and  I  rather  liked  her  then." 

"  Oh,  so  do  I,"  returned  Joan  eagerly;  "  she  has  such 
soft  eyes,  and  looks  such  a  peaceful,  gentle  sort  of  person ; 
and  I  have  heard  so  much  of  her  from  Prudence  and  Mr. 
Trafford." 

"  In  that  case  I  am  glad  I  did  not  refuse,"  returned 
Silence,  who  was  secretly  much  pleased  with  Joan's 
obvious  interest.  And  after  this  they  separated,  as  Joan 
wanted  to  go  back  for  one  of  her  cryptic  prowls,  as  she 
called  them. 

When  she  appeared  at  the  luncheon-table  a  little  late 
as  usual,  Jess  looked  at  her  in  an  injured  manner. 

"  Oh,  where  have  you  been,  Aunt  Joan,  all  these 
hours  ?  "  she  asked  reproachfully.  "  The  new  croquet  set 
has  arrived  from  the  Stores,  and  we  wanted  you  to  be  the 
first  to  see  it.  It  is  really  mother's  birthday  present 
from  father,  because  the  old  set  is  so  shabby  and  all  the 
paint  worn  away.  The  new  one  is  boxwood  and  quite 
nice  and  shiny." 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Bill,  and  go  on  with  your  luncheon," 
observed  Yere.    But  Jess  was  not  to  be  repressed. 

"  Father  says  we  must  not  play  for  another  fortnight 


152  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

or  three  weeks,  as  the  lawn  is  not  in  order.     And  I  am 
afraid  mother  does  not  want  us  to  use  the  new  set." 

"  Of  course  not,  Jess ;  they  are  for  your  mother  and 
her  visitors,"  returned  her  father  good-humouredly  ;  *'  the 
old  set  is  quite  good  enough  for  the  likes  of  you."  Jess 
tossed  her  head  in  an  offended  way. 

"  When  1  have  children,"  she  remarked  severely,  "  I 
shall  give  them  the  very  best  of  everything,  and  all  the 
nicest  and  newest  things,  and  not  save  them  for  stupid 
old  visitors."  And  the  burst  of  laughter  that  greeted  this 
sally  drove  Jess  to  offended  silence. 

It  was  Noel  who  resumed  the  conversation.  "  Were 
you  walking  all  the  time,  Aunt  Joan  ?  "  he  asked  sol- 
emnly ;  "  and  aren't  you  very  tired  ?  " 

"  Bless  me,  what  inquisitive  children !  "  returned  Joan 
rather  impatiently.  Then,  as  her  small  nephew  looked 
alarmed  at  this,  she  relented. 

"  No,  Noel  dear,  I  was  trying  to  improve  my  educa- 
tion by  studying  architecture ;  only,  to  my  disgust,  I 
found  I  knew  nothing — not  one  little  bit,  as  Bill  says 
Heath,  you  must  really  go  round  with  me  one  morning. 
I  have  got  so  dreadfully  mixed  with  regard  to  Early 
English,  Decorated,  and  Perpendicular  styles.  I  heard 
some  one  saying  the  other  day  to  his  companion,  a 
clergyman,  that  '  certain  peculiarities  and  diversity  of 
styles  gave  a  sort  of  mosaic-like  beauty  when  one  sur- 
veyed the  building  from  the  choir.'  " 

"  Well,  that  is  true,  Joan.  But  T  understand  your 
difficulty,"  returned  her  brother,  "  and  when  I  am  not 
quite  so  busy  I  will  trot  you  round ;  but,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  am  not  much  of  an  authority.  Canon  Courtland 
is  the  man  for  you." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  would  rather  go  with  you,  Heath.  And 
you  might  lend  me  some  book  to  help  me.  I  really  do 
think  that  architecture  must  be  an  awfully  interesting 
study — it  seems  to  grow  on  one.  I  think,  if  I  had  been  a 
man,  I  would  have  chosen  that  profession."  But  here 
Yere  interposed. 


Cryptic  Prowls  153 

"  It  was  only  at  Christmas  that  you  told  us  that  you 
would  like  to  be  a  doctor — a  woman  doctor,  I  think  you 
said — that  it  was  the  noblest  profession  in  the  world. 
Don't  you  remember,  Wanda,  how  Aunt  Joan  harangued 
us  for  an  hour  on  end  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  daresay  I  did,"  returned  Joan,  without 
waiting  for  Wanda's  answer.  "  But  I  have  changed  my 
mind  since  then.  I  should  not  care  to  study  anatomy — 
bones  must  be  so  dry,"  with  a  gesture  of  disgust.  "  Not 
that  I  don't  approve  of  women  doctors,  Vere.  What 
would  they  do  without  them  for  Zenana  work?"  Then 
she  added  boldly :  "  And  I  don't  see  why  women  should 
not  be  architects  as  well  as  artists  ;  in  my  opinion  it  is 
certainly  a  ladylike  profession.  Don't  you  agree  with  me, 
Silence?" 

"  I  don't  think  so,  Joan,"  returned  her  sister-in-law 
rather  nervously.  The  conversation  had  somewhat  bewil- 
dered her ;  she  could  not  quite  understand  Joan's  sudden 
passion  for  architecture.  She  loved  the  Cathedral — it 
always  rested  and  calmed  her — but  she  knew  nothing 
about  Early  English  and  Perpendicular  styles.  The  little 
Heath  had  told  her  had  escaped  her  memory.  She  knew 
it  was  all  vast  and  beautiful ;  and  sometimes  on  Sunday 
evenings,  when  she  looked  at  the  choir  with  its  long  lines 
of  light,  and  listened  to  the  boys'  sweet  voices,  she  would 
be  reminded  of  the  heavenly  Temple  which  needed  no 
light,  where  she  hoped  to  worship  one  day  with  her 
beloved  ones. 

Heath  had  noticed  his  wife's  embarrassment.  "  Come, 
Joan,"  he  said,  linking  his  hand  through  her  arm,  "  let 
us  go  to  the  study  and  hunt  for  the  book  you  want.  I 
will  try  to  get  off  for  an  hour  to-morrow  to  give  you 
your  first  lesson  in  architecture." 


XVIII 

"I  WILL  SEE  YOU  THROUGH  IT" 

Life  is  made  up  not  of  great  sacrifices  or  duties,  but  of  little 
•things,  in  which  smiles  and  kindness,  and  small  obligations,  given 
habitually,  are  what  win  and  preserve  the  heart  and  secure  com- 
fort.— Sir  Humphry  Davy. 

Keep  up  your  spirits. — Heroditus. 

The  visit  to  Kenwyn  was  a  great  success,  and  even 
Silence  owned  to  her  husband  that  it  was  the  first  time 
she  had  really  enjoyed  a  tea-party  at  St.  Breda's.  "  But 
Mrs.  Ramsay  is  such  a  homely,  comfortable  sort  of 
person,"  she  added,  "  that  it  is  impossible  to  be  shy  with 
her." 

Kenwyn  was  an  old-fashioned  house  with  a  long 
slip  of  side-garden.  The  front  windows  commanded  the 
narrow  green  and  row  of  elms ;  but  from  the  garden  and 
back  windows  there  was  a  charming  view  of  the  Cathe- 
dral towers,  where  the  jackdaws  built  their  nests. 

It  was  rather  an  unpretentious-looking  house,  but  the 
rooms  were  comfortable  and  homelike. 

When  the  maid  ushered  them  into  the  drawing-room 
Joan  gave  a  little  start  of  pleasurable  surprise  at  the 
sight  of  Dick  Trafford's  lean,  sunburnt  face.  He  was 
lying  back  in  an  easy-chair  with  the  bulldog  at  his  feet. 
As  he  jumped  up,  Dagon  gave  a  little  "  glump "  of 
pleasure  at  recognising  an  old  acquaintance ;  but  as 
Silence  responded  to  her  hostess'  greeting  she  regarded 
the  great  beast  with  such  evident  nervousness  that  Dick 
hastened  to  reassure  her. 

You   need  not  be  afraid  of  my  dog,   Mrs.  Leigh  ; 

Dagon   is  as  gentle  as  a  lamb.     I  wish  his  master  had 

a  tithe  of  his  good  temper.     If  there  were  such  things 

ugelic  bulldogs,  he  would  certainly  be  one.     Why, 

my  aunt  loves  him.    Don't  you,  Aunt  Felicia?  " 

154 


"  I  Will  See  You  Through  It  "       155 

"Well,  Dick,  1  can  hardly  go  as  far  as  that.  As  long 
as  he  keeps  his  distance  I  can  tolerate  him."  And  then 
Mrs.  Ramsay  settled  her  guests  cosily  near  the  low  tea- 
table.  Dick,  who  had  arrived  unexpectedly  the  previous 
evening,  had  assured  his  married  "  maiden  aunt  "  that 
Felicia  Ramsay  looked  twenty  years  younger  than  Felicia 
Graham.  "Any  stranger  would  take  you  for  a  woman 
of  thirty-eight  years  of  age,"  he  said  seriously.  "  Really, 
if  matrimony  achieves  these  astonishing  results,  it  is 
almost  enough  to  tempt  a  confirmed  old  bachelor  to 
change  his  mind." 

"  Hear,  hear,  Trafford !  "  observed  Canon  Ramsay 
approvingly ;  "  I  will  drink  your  health  after  that  " ;  for 
they  were  still  at  the  dinner-table  when  this  little  speech 
was  made. 

"  Nonsense,  Dick,"  returned  Felicia,  blushing.  And 
then  she  added  in  a  coaxing  voice,  "  Oh,  Dick,  if  you 
would  only  settle  down  and  have  a  home  of  your  own !  " 
But  Dick  shook  his  head. 

"  I  never  loved  a  dear  gazelle — you  remember  that 
record  speech  of  my  namesake,  the  immortal  Dick 
Swiveller — but  she  wras  sure  to  marry  the  market-gar- 
dener." But,  in  spite  of  his  whimsical  smile,  there  was  a 
queer  look  in  Dick's  eyes,  as  though  he  remembered  a 
certain  fickle-minded  "  queen  of  curds  and  cream."  "It 
is  an  unhappy  fact,  Aunt  Felicia,  that  if  I  am  the  least 
attracted  by  any  one  I  am  sure  to  be  told  the  next  moment 
that  she  is  either  married  or  engaged." 

"  Dear  me,  what  a  pity!  "  observed  his  sympathising 
relative.  But  Canon  Ramsay's  eyes  twinkled  with  amuse- 
ment ;  he  was  beginning  to  find  his  wife's  nephew  rather 
original  and  entertaining. 

"  Oh,  we  will  not  despair  yet."  returned  Dick  cheer- 
fully, as  he  cracked  his  Brazil  nuts — a  proceeding  which 
brought  Dagon  to  his  si  :e.  "  That's  your  share,  old 
fellow,"  he  said,  picking  him  two  of  the  most  tempting 
kernels.  "  Kittens  and  Brazil  nuts  are  Dagon's  pet  weak- 
nesses ;  but,  as  you  see,  I  am  obliged  to  limit  him  with 


156  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

regard  to  nuts.  No,  my  good  aunt,  where  there  is  life 
there  is  hope.  Latterly  1  have  had  an  idea  of  educating 
some  young  orphan  whose  parents  were  known  to  be 
fairly  respectable  and  sane  people.  I  draw  the  line  at 
criminality  or  insanity,"  went  on  Richard,  frowning  over 
his  words,  "  and  it  must  be  understood  that  my  orphan 
must  be  good-looking." 

"  Dick  doesn't  mean  half  he  says,"  interposed  Felicia, 
with  an  anxious  glance  at  her  husband.  But  though 
Canon  Ramsay  was  quite  aware  of  this,  he  chose  to  carry 
on  the  pleasant  fooling. 

"  The  idea  is  not  original,  I  suppose  it  has  been 
carried  over  and  over  again,  and  sometimes  with  happy 
results.    The  only  drawback  is  that  it  is  a  waiting  game." 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  hurry,  and  I  am  only  thirty-two. 
As  I  have  no  wish  to  settle  at  my  ease  for  ten  or  twelve 
years,  I  have  plenty  of  time  for  selection  and  education. 
It  might  be  an  interesting  experiment,"  answered  Dick 
thoughtfully,  "  only  a  trifle  costly." 

Felicia  could  not  help  thinking  of  this  conversation 
as  she  noticed  the  friendly  greeting  that  passed  between 
Dick  and  Joan.  Had  she  been  one  of  those  gazelles 
that  he  had  mentioned?  But,  as  far  as  she  knew,  the  girl 
was  not  engaged. 

Felicia  certainly  looked  her  best  this  afternoon,  in 
her  brown  dress  and  soft  creamy  ruffles.  In  spite  of 
her  grey  hair,  she  did  not  look  her  age.  Her  figure  was 
still  young  and  girlish,  and  in  her  husband's  eyes  she 
grew  every  day  more  and  more  like  the  old  Felicia.  Love 
is  proverbially  blind,  and  he  ceased  to  notice  the  lines  and 
fading  of  tints  and  the  little  primnesses  and  methodical 
ways.  Felicia  was  gentle  and  humble,  so  grateful  for  her 
new  happiness,  so  touchingly  careful  for  her  husband's 
comforts,  that  Canon  Ramsay  regarded  his  second  mar- 
riage as  a  great  success. 

"  If  only  my  boys  could  know  what  a  stepmother 
they  have  got,"  he  would  say  sometimes.  "  I  have 
promised  Basil  to  send  him  the  best  photo  I  can  get, 
Felicia.     We  must  have  one  taken  without  delay." 


"  I  Will  See  You  Through  It  "       157 

All  Canon  Ramsay's  sons  had  sent  pleasant  little 
greeting  notes  to  Felicia  enclosed  in  their  letters  to  their 
father.     But  Basil's  gave  her  most  pleasure. 

"  It  has  always  been  my  belief  that  those  who  have 
gone  before  into  the  other  world,"  he  wrote,  "  are  able 
in  some  way  to  enter  into  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  those 
they  loved  here.  And  if  I  am  right,  I  can  imagine  how 
our  dear  mother  will  rejoice  to  know  that  father  has  so 
kind  a  companion  to  cheer  his  loneliness.  I  know 
Malcolm  and  Walter  are  as  relieved  as  I  am  that  he 
has  some  one  to  care  for  him."  Felicia's  eyes  were  wet 
as  she  handed  Basil's  letter  to  her  husband. 

"  Oh,  the  dear  fellow !  "  he  murmured  huskily. 
"  Felicia,  you  have  no  idea  how  good  that  boy  is.  He  is 
a  perfect  saint,  and  yet  as  manly  as  any  of  them.  I 
wonder  if  any  father  ever  hard  better  sons !  But  it  is 
Basil  who  never  forgets  his  mother,"  he  finished  softly. 

Felicia  left  Dick  to  entertain  Joan  while  she  talked  to 
Silence.  A  happy  intuition  led  her  to  select  the  very 
subject  which  most  interested  her  guest. 

"  Is  that  exceedingly  pretty  little  girl  I  saw  with 
you  in  the  Cathedral  your  eldest  daughter?" 

"  Oh,  do  you  mean  Wanda  ?  "  returned  Silence,  with 
unusual  animation.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  think  her  pretty. 
Yes,  she  is  my  eldest.  She  is  only  just  twelve,  but  she 
has  such  womanly  little  ways  already." 

"  My  husband  noticed  her  too."  Felicia  had  not  yet 
learnt  to  pronounce  these  two  wTords  "  my  husband  " 
without  a  faint,  conscious  blush.  "  I  have  to  look  at  my 
wedding-ring  sometimes,"  she  said  once  naively  to  him, 
"  to  be  sure  that  I  am  not  dreaming  that  I  am  married." 
She  was  always  making  these  odd,  tender  little  speeches 
to  him.  Poor  dear  Felicia,  her  happiness  had  come  to 
her  so  late  in  life  that  she  could  not  believe  in  its  reality. 

"  He  is  very  fond  of  children,"  she  went  on.  "  and  he 
would  have  liked  to  have  had  a  daughter.  As  we  walked 
home  that  day  he  said  that  he  had  seen  such  a  handsome 
little  girl,  and  that  he  thought  she  must  be  Mrs.  Leigh's 


158  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

daughter.  '  She  was  so  attentive  and  nicely-behaved  that 
I  could  not  help  noticing  her,'  he  went  on.  I  must  tell 
him  her  name  is  Wanda;  it  is  such  an  uncommon  name." 

"  Yes ;  it  was  a  curious  fancy  of  my  husband's,  but 
it  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  reconcile  myself  to  it. 
I  wanted  so  much  to  call  her  Mary,  it  is  my  favourite 
name.  But  when  Jessica  was  born  I  felt  bound  to  give 
her  my  mother's  name." 

"  It  is  pretty  too ;  but  I  agree  with  you  that  there  is 
no  name  like  Mary,"  returned  Felicia.  And  then  Canon 
Ramsay  joined  them  and  there  were  fresh  introductions. 

Joan  liked  the  look  of  him.  She  thought  he  had  a 
nice  clever  rugged  face,  though  he  stooped  a  good  deal 
and  his  white  hair  and  spectacles  made  him  appear  fully 
his  age.  It  was  rather  difficult,  certainly,  to  realise  that 
he  had  only  just  returned  from  his  honeymoon.  But 
Joan's  quick  eyes  noticed  the  quiet  satisfaction  with 
which  he  regarded  his  wife. 

"  This  is  your  first  tea-party,  Felicia."  he  said,  as  she 
handed  him  the  cup  which  was  always  reserved  for  him. 
And  Felicia  blushed  and  smiled  assent. 

Joan  was  enjoying  herself  so  much  that  she  was  quite 
sorry  when  Silence  gave  the  signal  for  their  departure. 
Dick  Trafford  walked  with  them  across  the  green  bare- 
headed. He  had  not  quite  exhausted  the  subject  that  he 
and  Joan  were  discussing,  and  he  only  left  them  at  the 
gate  of  St.  Breda's  Lodge. 

"  What  a  singular  person  Mr.  Trafford  seems," 
observed  Silence  dubiously.  "  He  is  very  good-looking 
and  amusing,  but  so  extremely  unconventional.  Fancy 
walking  all  this  way  without  his  hat !  I  saw  Mrs.  Ander- 
son looking  at  us  in  quite  a  surprised  way."  For  this 
was  before  the  "  hatless  brigade  "  became  notable. 

"  I  think  he  is  delightful."  returned  Joan.  "  and  I 
hope  we  shall  see  a  great  deal  of  him.  You  might  have 
asked  him  to  come  in,  Silence  ;  Heath  is  sure  to  be  at 
home." 

"  Oh,  dear,  I  never  thought  of  it !     But  he  had  that 


I  Will  See  You  Through  It"        159 


sj 


dreadful  dog  with  him,  and  I  should  have  been  afraid 
of  the  children." 

"  You  know  Mr.  Trafford  told  you  how  gentle  and 
harmless  he  is,"  replied  Joan  reproachfully.  "  But  never 
mind,  he  would  only  think  you  a  little  stiff.  And  oh, 
why  did  you  hurry  away  so?  Canon  Ramsay  and  Mr. 
Trafford  and  I  were  having  such  an  interesting  talk." 

"  Hurry  away,  my  dear  Joan !  Are  you  aware  we 
have  been  at  Kenwyn  quite  an  hour  and  a  half?  And 
it  was  our  first  visit  too.  But,"  her  voice  changing,  "  I 
am  glad  you  enjoyed  it;  I  thought  it  very  pleasant 
myself."  And  then  they  went  into  the  study,  and  Joan 
talked  with  so  much  animation  of  their  visit  that  her 
brother  looked  quite  pleased. 

"  It  has  done  her  good,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  when 
the  girl  had  left  them;  "  she  wants  taking  out  of  herself. 
I  have  not  seen  Trafford  yet,  but  I  mean  to  call  on  him. 
I  tell  you  what,  Silence,  I  think  we  had  better  ask  him 
to  dinner.  We  might  get  the  Harcourts  to  meet  them. 
'They  have  shown  us  a  good  deal  of  attention,  and  they 
don't  leave  St.  Breda's  until  the  week  after  next."  Canon 
Harcourt  was  their  next-door  neighbour.  His  wife  was 
an  extremely  dignified  person,  and  Silence  stood  greatly 
in  awe  of  her. 

"  Oh,  Heath,  surely  that  is  not  necessary,"  returned 
Silence  nervously.  The  idea  was  appalling.  Thev  had 
never  had  people  to  dine  at  the  Rectory.  This  was  what 
she  had  dreaded  when  they  came  to  St.  Breda's.  More 
than  once  Heath  had  hinted  at  such  a  thing,  but  she  had 
always  changed  the  subject.  "  You  know  Vere  is  going 
back  to  Winchester  this  week,"  she  added. 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  this  week,  my  dear,"  he 
returned  mildly,  but  something  in  his  manner  told 
Silence  that  he  intended  to  carry  his  point.  "  The 
Harcourts  do  not  leave  until  Thursday  week,  so  next 
Tuesday  will  do  nicely.  Come,  love,  don't  look  so 
alarmed,  the  thing  is  not  as  difficult  as  you  suppose. 
You  have  good  servants,  an  excellent  cook,  and  Joan 


100  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

will  be  able  to  give  you  a  helping  hand  with  the  menu 
and  table  decorations.  They  often  had  guests  at  Morn- 
ingside ;  she  will  put  you  up  to  all  the  latest  dodges." 
And  as  Heath  said  this  he  looked  at  his  wife's  solemn 
face  very  kindly. 

"  Heath,  you  know  I  have  never  given  a  dinner-party 
in  my  life  !  " 

"  Dinner-party — tut,  nonsense !  We  are  only  asking 
two  or  three  friendly  neighbours  to  dinner.  Let  me  see, 
the  Harcourts  and  Ramsays  and  Trafford.  We  shall  only 
be  eight  altogether.  Just  fish  and  soup  and  an  entree 
will  be  enough.  Warren  stews  pigeons  to  perfection. 
You  must  talk  to  Joan ;  she  will  give  you  all  the  hints 
you  want.  1  don't  think  we  shall  have  any  reason  to  be 
ashamed  of  our  silver  and  entree  dishes.  Some  of  them 
have  never  even  seen  the  light." 

"Do  you  really  mean  it  seriously?"  Silence  looked 
quite  pale  as  she  put  the  question.  Then  Heath,  who 
was  standing  beside  her,  laughed  and  kissed  her. 

"  Yes,  I  am  quite  serious,  love.  When  I  came  to  St. 
Breda's  I  knew  we  should  have  to  discharge  certain 
social  functions.  But  I  do  not  intend  to  burden  you 
more  than  I  can  help.  We  will  have  no  formal  dinner- 
parties or  entertainments,  but  as  far  as  possible  we  will 
welcome  our  neighbours  in  a  friendly  way.  Come, 
Silence " — with  the  least  trace  of  impatience  in  his 
manner — "  don't  look  at  me  as  though  1  were  inflicting  a 
hateful  task  on  you.  We  must  do  our  duty  in  the  state 
of  life  to  which  we  are  called." 

Silence  made  no  answer  to  this,  but  as  the  dressing- 
bell  sounded  she  quietly  left  the  room.  Her  husband's 
will  was  supreme  in  the  household,  and  she  had  never 
yet  rebelled  against  it.  "It  almosl  makes  me  wish  to 
be  back  at  the  dear  old  Rectory,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  in 
spite  of  the  dismal  garden  and  smoky  atmosphere."  And 
a  Silence  cherished  this  repining  thought,  she  knew 
that  Heath  had  asked  nothing  unreasonable;  that  with 
their  beautiful  house  and  ample  means  he  had  a  right  to 
expect  that  his  friends  should  be  entertained. 


"  I  Will  See  You  Through  It  "       161 

Most  women  would  have  been  proud  to  have  an 
opportunity  to  show  such  fine  and  dainty  napery  and 
massive  silver.  Warren  would  have  been  a  treasure  to 
any  housekeeper,  and  was  capable  of  sending  up  a  dinner 
fit  for  any  one.  The  parlour-maid  understood  her  duties, 
and  even  the  housemaid  could  wait.  With  such  well- 
oiled  machinery  Silence  had  certainly  no  legitimate  cause 
for  such  sinkings  of  heart  and  failure  of  courage.  "  What 
would  you  do  if  Heath  were  to  be  made  a  bishop,"  Joan 
had  once  said  to  her,  "  and  you  had  to  entertain  all  the 
clergy  of  the  diocese  and  their  wives  ? "  Silence  re- 
membered this  speech  as  she  went  to  her  room. 

Joan  wondered  several  times  that  evening  what  could 
be  amiss  with  Silence,  she  was  so  exceedingly  glum — ■ 
that  was  the  only  word  that  occurred  to  her.  Had 
Heath  found  fault  with  her?  had  they  had  words?  But 
both  these  things  were  so  extremely  improbable  that  she 
had  to  dismiss  them  from  her  mind.  Heath  rarely  found 
fault  with  his  wife,  and  they  certainly  never  quarrelled. 
A  more  united  couple  never  lived.  And  yet  even  Wanda 
noticed  her  mother  seemed  out  of  sorts,  the  child  was  so 
observant. 

"Does  your  head  ache,  mother,  dear?"  she  asked  as 
they  went  into  the  drawing-room.  "  You  do  look  so 
tired.     Shall  I  fetch  your  eau  de  Cologne?" 

"  No,  dearest,  my  head  does  not  ache,"  returned 
Silence  hastily,  for  she  was  afraid  her  husband  would 
overhear  this.  And  then  she  sat  down  to  her  work,  and 
Joan  joined  the  children  in  a  round  game  until  they  went 
to  bed. 

"  I  wonder  what  Heath  is  doing,"  Joan  observed  as 
she  joined  Silence  in  her  corner. 

"  He  has  some  work  to  finish  this  evening ;  he  will 
come  up  by  and  by." 

Joan  fingered  the  silks  on  the  little  table.  "  Is  any- 
thing the  matter.  Silence?  "  she  asked  by  and  by.  "  You 
look  so  worried."  Silence  put  down  her  work  with  a 
sigh. 

11 


162  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"It  is  stupid  of  me  to  be  worried,  and  of  course  you 
will  only  laugh  at  me ;  but  if  you  know  how  I  hate  the 
idea  of  it." 

"  It — what  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired  Joan 
curiously. 

"It  is  only  that  Heath  has  been  talking  about  the 
Ramsays,  and  he  thinks  we  ought  to  ask  them  and  Mr. 
Tra fiord  to  dinner." 

"What  a  nice  idea!  Heath  is  a  dear  old  brick  for 
suggesting  such  a  thing!    Well,  Silence?  " 

"  And  he  wants  to  have  the  Harcourts  to  meet  them. 
There,  I  knew  you  would  laugh,  Joan.  You  think  me 
absurd  for  putting  myself  in  a  fever  at  the  bare  idea. 
We  never  had  people  at  the  Rectory,  and  the  idea  of  a 
dinner-party  scares  me.  But  Heath  says  it  must  be 
done,  and  that  you  would  help  me."  And  Silence  looked 
at  her  so  beseechingly  and  helplessly  that  Joan  bit  her 
lip  to  conceal  her  smile. 

"  My  dear  woman,  of  course  I  will  help  you,"  she 
returned  seriously.  "  I  know  all  about  these  little  infor- 
mal dinners.  The  dining-room  at  Morningside  is  not 
large,  and  Lady  Mary  never  would  have  more  than  eight 
— just  two  couples  and  Lady  Dorothy  and  her  brother. 
Why,  I  remember  the  last  one — there  were  Mr.  Ruther- 
ford and  Prudence,  and  that  nice  old  Colonel  Pendleton 
and  his  eldest  daughter — he  is  a  widower,  you  know — and 
Dorcas  and  Craig.  Oh,  it  was  the  nicest  evening  we 
ever  had,  and  it  was  so  informal  and  easy !  "  And  here 
Joan  with  difficulty  suppressed  a  sigh. 

"  Could  you — do  you  think  you  could  remember 
the  menu  ?  "  asked  Silence  anxiously.  Then  Joan  broke 
into  a  little  laugh.  There  was  something  so  droll  in  the 
contrast  between  the  grand  frame  and  Madonna  face 
and  the  childlike  timidity.  But  as  Silence  drew  herself 
up  in  rather  an  affronted  way,  Joan  laughed  again. 

"  Oh,  Silence,  how  funny  you  are — you  make  me 
laugh  just  when  I  want  to  be  serious!  Of  course  I 
remember  the  menu,  for  I  wrote  them  all  out  myself — I 


"  I  Will  See  You  Through  It "        163 

always  did  for  '  the  Eights,'  as  I  called  them.  And  now 
we  are  going  to  have  an  '  Eight '  at  St.  Breda's  Lodge, 
and  if  you  want  help  I  am  your  woman,  and  we  will  just 
have  the  nicest  little  dinner-table  you  ever  saw,  if  you 
will  only  leave  it  to  me."  And  Joan  looked  so  sanguine, 
so  cocksure  of  herself,  that  Silence  drew  a  relieved  breath. 

"  Oh,  Joan,  if  you  will  only  see  me  through  it !  "  she 
said  solemnly. 

"  Of  course  I  will  see  you  through  it !  But  here 
comes  Heath,  and  he  must  not  guess  we  have  been  talk- 
ing about  it — we  have  to  surprise  him,  you  know."  And 
though  Silence  was  generally  rather  slow-witted,  she 
actually  took  the  hint, 


XIX 

A  MEMBER  OF  THE  HUMANE  SOCIETY 

If  I  can  stop  one  heart  from  breaking, 

I  shall  not  live  in  vain  ; 
If  I  can  ease  one  life  the  aching, 

Or  cool  one  pain, 
Or  help  one  fainting  robin 

Unto  his  nest  again, 
I  shall  not  live  in  vain. 

Emily  Dickinson. 

Canon  Leigh  was  right.  The  little  excitement  had 
done  Joan  good,  and  she  looked  more  like  her  old  self 
the  next  morning  than  she  had  done  since  she  had  come 
to  St.  Breda's.  Joan  was  really  so  much  younger  than 
her  age,  there  was  something  so  buoyant  and  childlike  in 
her  nature  that  would  not  always  be  repressed.  She  was 
too  full  of  life,  of  growth,  and  youthful  hope  to  allow 
herself  to  be  absolutely  crushed  by  misfortune.  Her 
troubles  were  very  real ;  she  could  not  marry  the  man  she 
loved,  and  there  was  a  harrowing  fear  in  her  secret  mind 
that  she  might  not  be  able  to  return  to  her  beloved  Lady 
Mary  and  Morningside  perhaps  for  years,  and  yet  the 
sunshine  of  a  spring  day,  or  the  fluting  of  a  thrush,  or  the 
burgeoning  of  the  polished  chestnut  buds,  or  the  sight 
of  tasselled  catkins  on  the  limes  and  willows,  seemed  to 
fill  her  with  renewed  life. 

"  One  must  always  hope  for  the  best,"  she  wrote  in  one  of 
her  letters  to  Lady  Mary.  "  This  morning  the  sky  is  so  blue, 
and  Wanda's  doves  are  cooing  so  deliciously  in  the  sunshine, 
that  I  feel  as  though  something  unexpected  and  pleasant  must 
happen,  and  that  my  troubles  are  rather  like  the  bad  dreams 
which   fade  away  in  daylight." 

"  One  must  always  hope,"  that  was  so  like  Joan ;  but 
probably,  though  she  would  not  have  owned  it  even  to 
164 


A  Member  of  the  Humane  Society    165 

herself,  Joan's  improved  spirits  were  owing  to  the  fact 
that  Lady  Mary's  letters  contained  no  special  news  about 
Lady  Cicely. 

"  I  hope  Cicely  O'Brien  is  enjoying  herself,"  she  wrote  once, 
"  but  tilings  are  rather  quiet  at  the  Abbey  just  now.  Craig  comes 
very  little ;  he  says  he  is  too  busy,  but  his  mother  does  not  seem 
quite  pleased  about  it.  They  are  making  up  a  party  for  Aldershot 
to-morrow,  and  he  has  promised  to  come  back  with  them  for 
the  evening.  Of  course  I  see  the  girls  every  day,  and  the  more 
J  see  of  Cicely,  the  better  I  like  her.  She  is  a  nice,  bright- 
natured  girl,  and  so  unselfish.  I  am  to  dine  with  them  this 
evening,  Lady  Merriton  insists  on  it." 

"  In  vain  is  the  snare  laid  in  sight  of  the  bird," 
thought  Joan,  as  she  perused  this  letter.  "  If  they  had 
only  left  Craig  alone  for  a  little  before  they  hatched  out 
their  little  schemes.  Why,  even  if  he  felt  inclined,  Craig 
would  be  ashamed  to  make  love  to  another  girl  quite  so 
soon ;  "  and  Joan's  lip  curled  a  little  contemptuously  at 
the  thought  of  Lady  Merriton's  denseness  and  want  of 
perception.  But  all  the  same  she  waited  rather  anxiously 
for  the  next  letter. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  nothing  very  amusing  to  tell  you,  my 
dear  Joan,"  wrote  her  faithful  correspondent.  "  Thursday  was 
not  a  success.  It  was  very  wet  in  the  afternoon,  and  they  had 
to  take  shelter  in  Craig's  quarters.  Unfortunately,  his  duties 
prevented  him  from  being  with  them  until  it  was  nearly  time  to 
go  back.  Colonel  Hamilton  gave  them  tea,  and  two  or  three 
officers  were  in  attendance ;  but  Dorothy  did  not  think  Cicely 
enjoyed  herself.  To  make  things  worse,  Craig  had  had  a  fagging 
day,  and  was  really  tired,  and  not  at  all  inclined  to  make  himself 
agreeable,  though  he  did  his  best,  poor  boy.  I  thought  the 
evening  a  little  flat  myself,  though  Cicely  sang  charmingly.  They 
are  dining  at  the  Rectory  to-morrow.  Craig  is  invited,  but  I  am 
not  sure  that  he  will  be  able  to  go." 

In  her  next  letter  Lady  Mary  wrote  chiefly  about 
her  eldest  nephew. 

Josselyn  is  so  much  better  that  he  intends  to  make  a  move 
soon.  Some  friends  of  his  are  going  to  Switzerland,  and  as  a 
young  doctor  is  to  be  one  of  the  party,  he  means  to  take  him  as 


166  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

his  travelling  physician.  My  brother  and  Lady  Merriton  hare 
written  :  ■  entreat  him  to  come  straight  to  the  Abbey,  but  he 
will  not  hear  of  it.  He  has  really  no  regard  for  his  parents' 
feelings,  ft  Josselyn  bad  been  my  son,  I  think  his  selfishness 
and  want  of  filial  love  would  have  broken  my  heart  long  ago. 
lie  has   not   even   told   tl.  n    he   means  to  start.     D< 

declares  that  he  had  probably  left  Cairo  before  his  last  letter 
reached  them.  They  have  quite  made  up  'heir  minds  to  go  to 
him  as  soon  as  they  know  his  address,  and  I  think  myself  that 
this  is  the  best  plan.  Of  course  Dorothy  means  to  go  too.  In 
that  case  I  really  think  I  shall  take  a  little  change  myself.  I 
I  rather  like  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks  at  ;  .  I  me.  If 
I  carry  out  this  little  project,  do  you  think  Heath  would  let  you 
join  me  there? 

It  was  this  last  clause  in  Lady  Mary's  letter  that 
•made  Joan's  eyes  sparkle. 

"Oh,  how  dear  of  her  to  think  of  it!"  she  said  to 
herself.  "  But  I  will  not  hint  at  such  a  thing  to  either 
Heath  or  Silence,  in  case  it  does  not  come  to  pass." 
And  then  she  put  away  the  letter,  and  went  in  search  of 
Wanda,  who  was  much  depressed  by  the  fact  that  Yere 
had  returned  to  Winchester  that  morning.  Joan  had 
promised  to  do  some  errand  in  the  town  for  her  sister- 
in-law.  and  she  thought  the  walk  would  do  Wanda  good. 
The  other  children  were  painting  in  the  school-room. 

Wanda  was  quite  willing  to  accompany  her  aunt,  and 
set  off  hastily,  with  Rascal  racing  ahead  of  them. 
'•  is  a  lovely  May  afternoon,  and  as  soon  as  Joan  had 
finished  her  business  she  proposed  that  they  should  take 
a  turn  on  St.  Michael's  Parade.  In  summer-time  it  was 
a  favourite  promenade  for  the  citizens  of  St.  Breda's. 
The  terrace  on  the  top  of  the  ramparts,  with  its  pic- 
turesque watch-towers  and  sheltered  seats,  was  exceed- 
ingly pleasant,  and  on  warm  days  the  trim  lawns  and 
pleasant  beds  in  the  enclosure  below,  and  the  shady  lime 
avenue,  offered  a  delightful  retreat. 

( )n  this  afternoon  it  was  unusually  quiet:  only  a  few 
children  were  playing  on  the  grass  or  running  up  and 

ti  the  mounds.  4 

As  they  walked  up  the  lime  avenue  Joan  drew  a  deep 


A  Member  of  the  Humane  Society     167' 

breath  of  satisfaction ;  for  the  love  of  nature  was  strong: 
within  her,  and  it  was  a  perfect  joy  to  her  to  see  the 
tender  green  leafage  turning  gold  in  the  sunshine  as  it 
rippled  and  swayed  in  the  fresh  breeze. 

"  Oh,  it  is  too  delicious !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  then 
she  interrupted  herself. 

"  "Wanda,  will  you  sit  down  a  moment  on  that  bench  ? 
I  must  really  go  and  speak  to  those  boys ;  I  am  sure 
they  are  bullying  the  little  one."  And  Joan  went  swiftly 
across  the  grass ;  quite  unconscious  that  a  pair  of  amused, 
quizzical  eyes  were  watching  her. 

A  minute  later,  Wanda  was  aware  that  a  tall,  good- 
looking  man,  with  an  ugly  brindled  bulldog  waddling" 
behind  him,  was  approaching  the  seat.  To  her  surprise,. 
he  raised  his  hat  and  accosted  her  in  a  pleasant  voice. 

"  I  saw  you  with  Miss  Leigh  just  now.  I  am  sure 
you  are  Canon  Leigh's  daughter." 

Now  Wanda,  in  spite  of  her  quiet  disposition,  was 
not  at  all  shy. 

"  I  think  you  must  be  Mr.  Trafford,"  she  returned 
composedly,  "  and  that  must  be  the  bulldog  that  fright- 
ened mother  so  when  she  was  having  tea  with  Mrs. 
Ramsay.  Oh,  please,  I  don't  want  him  to  come  too  close  ,r 
— as  Dagon,  breathing  hard,  was  preparing  to  make 
friendly  overtures.  Then  Dick,  with  a  resigned  air, 
seated  himself  and  took  the  thick  clumsy  head  between 
his  knees. 

"  Never  mind,  old  fellow,"  he  said  caressingly.  "  No 
one  but  your  master  appreciates  you,  and  he  knows  that 
you  are  worth  your  weight  in  gold.  We  will  stick  to 
each  other,  Dagon,  however  the  world  may  malign  and 
misunderstand  us."  And  then,  in  a  wheedling  toneT 
"  You  see  I  have  him  quite  safe,  and  if  you  were  to  pat 
his  head  I  am  sure  he  would  take  it  kindly."  And 
Wanda,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  extended  a  small 
and  rather  shaking  hand. 

"  He  can't  help  being  ugly,"  she  said  half  to  herself. 

"  No,  and  it  is  a  pity  to  hurt  his  feelings.     Do  you 


168  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

know,  Miss  Leigh,  if  I  stay  long  at  Kenwyn — but  I  am 
rather  a  waif  and  stray,  you  see — I  think  I  shall  get 
hold  of  some  school-room  and  give  a  demonstration 
lecture  on  bulldogs  in  general,  and  Dagon  in  particular." 

"  Oh,  shall  you  really !  "  But  Wanda  was  puzzled, 
she  did  not  quite  know  whether  he  was  joking  or  in 
earnest.    His  expression  was  quite  grave. 

"  I  expect  your  aunt  will  applaud  the  idea.  I  think 
the  demonstration  part  will  be  singularly  effective.  I 
shall  have  a  basket  of  kittens  of  all  ages  on  the  platform, 
and  a  paper  bag  of  Brazil  nuts,  and  put  Dagon  through 
all  his  parlour  tricks.  "  My  word,"  breaking  off  sud- 
denly, "  those  young  rascals  don't  seem  to  be  inclined  to 
let  the  boy  go !    I  shall  have  to  go  to  the  rescue." 

"  Oh,  no,  Aunt  Joan  is  scolding  them — there,  the 
biggest  one  is  skulking  off,  and  she  has  got  hold  of  the 
little  one's  hand.    It  is  all  right,  she  will  be  here  directly." 

Dick  sat  down  again. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  send  Dagon  to  investigate 
matters.  Oh,  he  would  not  have  touched  one  of  them." 
as  Wanda  looked  alarmed  at  the  mere  idea ;  "  he  would 
have  simply  looked  at  them  until  they  fled  trembling. 
He  is  a  moral  policeman,  is  Dagon.  Ah,  here  comes 
the  conquering  heroine !  She  is  sending  the  victim  away 
smiling;  I  bet  you  anything  he  is  holding  coin  of  the 
realm  in  his  grubby  little  fist." 

Joan,  flushed,  indignant,  and  triumphant,  came 
towards  them. 

"  I  caught  sight  of  Dagon,"  she  said,  smiling  at  Dick, 
"  when  I  was  pitching  into  those  little  savages.  Why 
are  boys  such  brutes  sometimes?  they  were  frightening 
that  poor  child  to  death." 

"  Oh,  we  have  all  of  us  been  brutes  in  our  time,  I 
daresay,"  replied  Dick  cheerfully.  "  T  am  only  generalis- 
ing on  the  subject  of  boys.  T  never  look  back  on  my 
voung  days  without  uncomfortable  twinges  of  conscience 
for  speckled  eggs  taken  out  of  nests,  frogs  harnessed  to 
toy   chariots,   baby   thrushes   and   blackbirds   starved   by 


A  Member  of  the  Humane  Society    169 

ignorance,  not  unkind  intent,  harrowing  funeral  of 
slaughtered  innocents,  with  nightmares  of  pecking  and 
outraged  parents  of  prodigious  size.  Oh,  I  could  hold 
forth  for  hours  on  the  human  hoy !  "  And  then,  warming 
to  his  subject,  "  If,  as  Wordsworth  says,  '  heaven  lies 
about  us  in  our  infancy/  there  are  few  celestial  traces 
to  be  found  in  the  young,  growing,  undeveloped  creature. 
Boy  is  a  playing,  fighting  animal,  he  is  unsentimental, 
well — if  you  care  to  state  it  boldly — unfeeling  to  the  last 
degree ;  he  bullies  the  weak,  he  toadies  the  strong.  It  is 
the  survival  of  the  fittest.  But  one  of  these  days  Boy 
will  rub  his  eyes  and  see  things  in  a  different  light ;  then 
he  will  understand  what  true  manliness  means.  And 
'  cherchez  la  femme ! '  "  finished  Dick,  with  an  unscrutable 
smile. 

Wanda  listened  to  this  long  harangue  with  a  bewil- 
dered and  thoughtful  expression  ;  then  she  fixed  her  large 
dark  eyes  on  Dick's  face.  "  I  don't  think  you  meant  to 
be  cruel,"  she  said  slowly,  "  though  it  was  not  kind  to 
take  those  poor  little  birds  out  of  their  warm  nests  and 
put  them  in  a  cage.  Vere  and  Frank  never  did  such  a 
thing ;  when  they  wanted  eggs  for  their  collections,  they 
always  left  one  or  two  for  the  poor  mother.  I  don't 
believe  they  ever  did  really  cruel  things  in  their  lives — 
do  you,  Aunt  Joan  ?  But  of  course  you  did  not  mean  it," 
observed  Wanda  graciously. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  did,"  returned  Dick  with  a  kind 
smile.  "  But,  don't  you  know,  Miss  Wanda,  that  '  evil 
is  wrought  by  want  of  thought  as  well  as  want  of  heart '  ? 
Not  being  a  thrush  mother,  I  was  quite  ignorant  how 
frequently  the  youngster  needed  nourishment,  and  it 
never  entered  my  head  that  they  wanted  warmth ;  when 
these  facts  were  pointed  out  to  me,  on  the  eve  of  that 
harrowing  funeral  I  mentioned,  I  wept  with  remorse,  and 
refused  to  be  comforted  unless  the  cat  and  cockatoo 
attended  the  function  attired  in  long  crape  streamers." 

It  was  impossible  not  to  laugh.  Then  Dick,  who  was 
bent  on  vindicating  himself  in  the  little  girl's  eyes,  remem- 


170  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

bered  a  certain  good  work  of  his  which  would  reinstate 
him  in  her  good  opinion. 

"I  atoned  for  my  childish  sins  later,  when  I  posed  as 
a  liberator  of  larks.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  newly-caged 
lark,  Miss  Wanda?"  And  as  she  shook  her  head — 
"  Then  you  have  been  spared  a  painful  sight.  To  see  the 
poor  little  beggar  try  to  rise  in  that  infamous  little  box  of 
a  cage — oh,  it  got  on  my  nerves.  And  I  had  a  perfect 
craze  for  haunting  the  Seven  Dials  and  other  mean  locali- 
ties, on  my  quest  for  larks.  My  maiden  aunt  used  to 
remonstrate  with  me  on  the  shillings  I  spent  so  freely. 
'  I  am  sorry  enough  for  all  caged  things,'  she  said,  '  but 

when   the  children   need  bread '      But   I   would  not 

listen  to  her." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  "  exclaimed  Wanda.  "  Oh,  do 
please  tell  us  what  you  did  next !  " 

"  Well,  then,  when  I  had  a  sufficient  number  of  little 
boxes,  I  engaged  a  hansom  and  had  myself  driven  to 
some  nice  open  space — Hampstead  Heath  or  Regent's 
Park  or  Wimbledon  Common.  I  always  chose  a  lonely 
part  where  there  were  no  onlookers.  Then  I  opened  the 
cage  doors.  I  remember  on  one  occasion  the  driver  was 
so  taken  back  by  my  humane  proceedings  that  I  heard 
him  mutter,  '  Blest  if  he  is  not  the  rummiest  cove  that 
I  have  seen  for  a  long  day !  Shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he 
is  from  Hanwell.'  But  I  rather  fancy  he  had  had  a  drop 
too  much.  On  another  occasion  my  driver,  a  good-look- 
ing young  chap,  was  quite  excited.  '  T  call  that  real  sport, 
sir,'  he  said.  And  I  was  so  much  pleased  with  his  sym- 
pathy that  I  gave  him  an  additional  shilling. 

"  Sport  indeed — I  should  think  so!  If  only  you  could 
have  seen  it,  the  way  the  little  creature  perched  palpi- 
tating on  the  threshold  of  the  cage,  and  then  went  up 
like  a  rocket.  Sometimes  I  could  hear  it  trilling  as  it 
went ;  it  used  to  make  me  feel  quite  lively." 

''What  did  you  do  with  the  cages?"  asked  Wanda, 
for  she  was  a  practical  little  person. 

"  I  used  to  break  them  to  pieces  with  my  stick,  until 


A  Member  of  the  Humane  Society     171 

my  sympathising  friend  begged  me  to  let  him  take  them 
home.  '  My  youngsters  have  got  a  linnet,  and  I  think 
I  could  make  quite  a  roomy  cage  out  of  all  those  small 
ones.'  That  day  I  went  home  a  proud  man ;  for  not  only 
had  I  set  prisoners  free,  but  I  was  housing  the  homeless. 
But  I  had  to  give  it  up  after  that,"  continued  Dick  regret- 
fully. "Rutherford  broke  me  of  the  habit;  he  said  I 
was  just  encouraging  the  bird-catchers,  and  that  I  should 
become  notorious  in  Whitechapel  and  the  Seven  Dials  as 
'  the  larking  gent.'  But  at  least  I  have  set  a  hundred 
captives  free  to  soar  to  heaven's  gate,"  concluded  Dick 
virtuously. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Joan,  I  never  heard  anything  more  inter- 
esting!" exclaimed  Wanda.  "I  am  going  to  write  to 
Vere  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  tell  him  all  about  the  larks. 
Oh,  thank  you  so  much,  Mr.  Trafford.  I  think  it  was 
so  nice  of  you  to  think  of  it."  And  from  that  day  Richard 
Trafford,  the  Waif  and  Stray,  was  a  hero  in  Wanda's 
eyes. 

"  We  must  really  go  home  now,"  observed  Joan,  and 
Dick  accompanied  them  until  they  had  reached  the 
Precincts. 

"  Aunt  Joan,"  observed  Wanda,  when  Dick  had  taken 
leave  of  them,  "  I  had  no  idea  that  Mr.  Trafford  was 
such  a  nice  man.  Mother  said  he  was  amusing  and 
funny,  and  so  he  is,  but  he  has  such  a  kind  face."  And 
Joan  quite  coincided  in  this  opinion. 

"  That  is  the  prettiest  little  girl  I  have  seen  for  a 
long  time,"  thought  Dick  as  he  strolled  across  to  the 
tobacconist's.  "  I  like  her  stately  little  ways ;  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  she  grows  into  a  beautiful  woman  in 
a  few  years'  time.  If  she  had  only  been  an  orphan !  " 
And  then  Dick  chuckled  inwardly  as  he  remembered 
Aunt  Felicia's  expression  when  he  propounded  his  views 
with  regard  to  his  future  wife's  training. 


XX 

"MY  TEXT  IS  FROM  THOMAS  A  KEMPIS" 

Temptations  are  often  very  profitable  to  us,  though  they  be 
troublesome  and  grievous ;  for  in  them  a  man  is  humbled,  puri- 
fied, and  instructed. — Thomas  a  Kempis. 

All  love  renders  wise  in  its  degree. — Browning. 

The  Harcourts  and  Ramsays  accepted  the  invitation, 
and  Joan  threw  herself  with  her  accustomed  energy  into 
the  preparations  for  "  the  Eight." 

"  I  will  see  you  through  it,"  she  had  said  to  Silence, 
and  she  certainly  kept  her  word.  When  Canon  Leigh 
hinted  to  her  that  he  feared  that  the  number  mentioned 
would  work  out  rather  awkwardly  at  the  table,  Joan 
refused  to  listen  to  him. 

"  Ask  two  more  people!  "  she  said  indignantly.  "  My 
dear  Heath,  how  could  you  be  so  inconsiderate.  I  will 
not  have  poor  Silence  put  upon.  She  is  quite  nervous 
enough  already." 

"  One  may  as  well  be  hanged  for  stealing  a  sheep 
as  for  a  lamb,"  returned  her  brother  drily.  But  Joan 
took  no  notice  of  this  grim  little  joke. 

"  I  would  not  have  you  suggest  such  a  thing  to 
Silence  for  worlds,"  she  replied  seriously  ;  "  it  would  be 
the  last  straw.  What  does  it  matter  if  I  have  to  sit  by 
Mrs.  Ramsay,  and  that  Mr.  TrafFord  will  be  at  your 
left  hand  instead  of  Mrs.  Harcourt — they  will  under- 
stand? At  Morningside  the  table  was  round,  and  we 
always  seated  our  people  properly.  You  can  easily  ex- 
plain things  beforehand  to  Mrs.  Harcourt."  And  Joan 
carried  her  point. 

Silence  was  perfectly  docile-,  and  accepted  all  Joan's 
suggestions  with  the  utmost  meekness.  Joan  wrote  out 
one  of  the  Morningside  menus,  and  with  a  few  necessary 

172 


"  My  Text  is  from  Thomas  a  Kempis  "173 

changes  such  as  the  season  required  it  met  with  Warren's 
approval. 

"  It  could  not  be  better,  ma'am,"  she  said  to  her 
mistress ;  '*  there  will  be  enough  and  to  spare  without 
wasteful  extravagance.  You  need  not  fear  of  my  cook- 
ing. Many  a  dinner  have  I  sent  up  for  twelve  or  fourteen 
persons,  and  have  been  complimented  afterwards  by  the 
master  himself."  And  Warren  seemed  to  expand  with 
extreme  self-satisfaction  at  the  recollection. 

Joan  carried  out  her  scheme  of  table  decoration  very 
successfully.  The  pink  tulips  and  white  narcissi  were 
arranged  with  such  effect  that  Heath  looked  at  his  wife 
with  marked  approval. 

"  I  never  saw  anything  prettier,"  he  said ;  "  the  Har- 
courts'  table  was  quite  ordinary  in  comparison." 

"  It  was  Joan's  doing,"  returned  Silence  in  rather  an 
embarrassed  voice.  "  You  have  no  idea  how  good  and 
helpful  she  has  been ;  "  and  Heath  nodded,  he  guessed 
far  more  than  they  suspected. 

More  than  once,  when  Canon  Leigh  had  finished 
his  talk  with  the  happy-looking  elderly  bride,  he  glanced 
somewhat  anxiously  at  the  stately  figure  and  Madonna 
face  opposite  to  him.  Joan's  eyes  often  wandered  in  the 
same  direction.  "  How  handsome  Silence  is !  "  she  said 
to  herself.  "  One  could  almost  call  her  a  beautiful 
woman.  But  if  she  would  only  smile  now  and  then.  I 
can  see  Canon  Ramsay  has  hard  work  to  keep  up  the  con- 
versation, and  his  neighbour  seems  so  pleased  with  Mr. 
Trafford  that  she  hardly  takes  any  notice  of  the  poor 
man.  Canon  Harcourt  seems  to  have  given  up  all  hope 
of  interesting  her,  and  that  is  why  he  talks  to  me.  But 
men  are  so  stupid :  he  might  have  guessed  that  archi- 
tecture and  politics  would  not  interest  a  woman  like 
Silence." 

There  was  no  doubt  that  Canon  Harcourt  found  Joan 
a  far  more  amusing  companion  than  his  hostess.  "  Mrs. 
Leigh  is  a  most  distinguished-looking  woman,"  he  said 
to  his  wife  as  they  turned  in  at  their  garden  gate  in  the 


174  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

moonlight,  "  and  I  expect  her  husband  finds  her  a 
domestic  treasure,  but  she  is  heavy  in  hand.  I  started 
half-a-dozen  subjects,  but  she  did  not  seem  to  have  much 
to  say  in  answer.  It  was  quite  a  relief  to  talk  to  Miss 
Leigh — she  is  so  bright  and  original." 

"  Oh,  and  so  is  Mr.  Trafford.  I  don't  think  I  ever 
enjoyed  myself  more.  He  amused  me  so  much  that  I 
could  hardly  eat  my  dinner.  I  am  quite  sorry  that  we 
cannot  ask  him  and  the  Ramsays  to  dinner  before  wre  go, 
but  it  is  quite  impossible,"  and  Mrs.  Harcourt  said  this 
regretfully. 

When  the  guests  had  left,  Canon  Leigh  returned  to 
the  drawing-room.  He  was  in  high  good-humour.  He 
came  up  to  his  wife,  who  was  standing  by  the  fireplace, 
and  put  his  arm  round  her.    "  Where  is  Joan,  love?  " 

Silence  raised  her  tired  eyes  to  her  husband's  face. 
"  She  has  gone  to  speak  to  Prescott ;  she  will  be  here 
directly.     Has  everything  gone  as  you  wished,  Heath?" 

"  I  should  think  so !  Why,  the  Harcourts  have  been 
telling  me  that  they  have  never  enjoyed  an  evening  more, 
and  I  am  sure  that  nice  little  body,  Mrs.  Ramsay,  would 
endorse  that.  Didn't  I  tell  you,  love,  that  we  should 
manage  all  right?  Warren  cooked  the  dinner  to  per- 
fection, and  the  maids  waited  as  well  as  possible." 

"  Oh,  not  Charlotte.  I  had  to  signal  to  her  twice 
to  hand  the  vegetables,  and  she  never  would  remember 
to  change  the  plates." 

"Tut,  who  would  have  noticed  such  a  trifle!  T  am 
sure  Prescott  did  her  part  well.  What  a  pleasant  fellow 
Trafford  is !  He  kept  us  all  lively  with  his  racy  stories. 
Well,  my  dear,  I  can  only  tell  you  that  I  can  honestly 
congratulate  you  on  the  success  of  your  first  dinner- 
party."    But  Silence's  pale  face  did  not  brighten. 

"  You  must  thank  Joan  for  that.  Of  course,"  she 
added  hastily,  "  I  shall  know  better  how  to  manage  next 
time.  But  1  do  not  deserve  any  praise  this  evening.  I 
am  afraid  that  Canon  Harcourt  thought  me  a  very  stupid 
hostess." 


"  My  Text  is  from  Thomas  a  Kempis  "175 

"  My  dear  Silence  !  " 

"Oh,  you  know  " — and  her  voice  was  full  of  pain — 
"  I  am  not  clever  like  Joan,  and  I  cannot  talk.  And 
yet  I  tried  my  very  best  to-night." 

"  Do  you  think  I  do  not  know  that  ?  " 

"  But  it  was  no  use.  What  is  the  good  of  trying  to 
hide  the  truth?  I  am  not  clever,  Heath,  and  every  day 
I  live  I  seem  to  feel  my  ignorance  more.  If  we  did  not 
love  each  other  so  much,  I  should  often  tell  myself  and 
you  that  I  am  not  the  right  wife  for  you."  And  then  in 
a  half-whisper — "  Sometimes  I  fear  that  one  day  you 
will  find  it  out  for  yourself.'" 

Heath  was  very  angry  for  a  moment.  "  You  would 
not  say  such  a  thing  to  me  a  second  time !  "  he  returned, 
in  a  voice  she  had  never  heard  before.  Then,  at  the 
sight  of  her  weary,  anxious  face  he  relented.  "  You 
do  not  deserve  me  to  tell  you,  what  you  already  know 
to  be  the  truth,  that,  clever  or  stupid,  wise  or  ignorant, 
you  are  the  one  woman  in  the  world  for  me."  Then 
Silence's  beautiful  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Please  forgive  me,  dear.  I  was  only  thinking  of 
my  own  deficiencies — I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  you." 

"  Then  I  will  try  to  forget  it.  But  you  must  never 
say  such  a  thing  again,  even  to  yourself.  Hush,  here 
comes  Joan,  and  I  am  going  to  dismiss  you  to  bed." 
And  Silence  gladly  availed  herself  of  this  permission  to 
retire. 

"  Silence  is  very  tired — I  don't  want  her  to  have  any 
more  talking,"  he  said,  as  Joan  came  towards  him. 

"  She  has  been  tired  all  day,"  returned  the  girl.  "  I 
am  afraid  she  did  not  enjoy  the  evening  as  much  as  we 
did.  But  I  think  social  functions  will  never  be  in  Silence's 
line." 

"  Oh,  it  is  always  difficult  to  get  out  of  a  groove." 
returned  her  brother  quietly.  "  And  at  the  Rectory 
we  were  uncommonly  groovy.  Mothers'  Meetings 
and  Sunday  School  Treats  were  our  chief  dissipations. 
Smuts  and  smoke,  instead  of  chiffon  and  pink  tulips — 


176  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

eh,  Joan  ?  "  And  then,  with  a  few  words  of  grateful 
appreciation  of  the  trouble  she  had  taken,  Heath  made 
some  excuse  and  retired  to  his  study. 

Nearly  an  hour  later,  when  he  went  upstairs,  he  was 
surprised  to  see  a  light  burning  in  his  wife's  room. 

Silence  was  sitting  at  her  little  table  reading.  The 
book,  Thomas  a  Kempis,  lay  open  on  her  lap.  She  had 
taken  off  her  dinner-dress  and  was  in  a  white  wrapper, 
and  her  dark  hair  was  divided  for  the  night  in  two  long 
thick  plaits  which  reached  to  her  knees.  Joan,  who  had 
seen  her  once  like  this,  told  Heath  that  she  had  reminded 
her  of  a  picture  of  the  Madonna  which  she  had  greatly 
admired.  "  It  is  the  one  with  the  plaits  of  hair  on  either 
side  of  the  face — I  forget  the  name  of  the  artist — and  it 
is  very  sweet,  and  with  such  a  motherly  expression." 
Heath  remembered  this  speech  when  Silence  looked  at 
him  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"Do  you  know  how  late  it  is,  love?"  he  asked 
reproachfully. 

"Is  it?  I  forgot  the  time;  and  this  dear  old  book 
always  rests  me  so.  Do  you  remember  it,  Heath?  "  hand- 
ing him  the  worn  copy.  "  It  was  your  first  present  to 
me,  and  when  you  laid  it  down  beside  me  and  told  me 
you  were  going  away  for  a  few  weeks,  I  could  not  speak, 
partly  for  the  pain  of  missing  you,  and  because  I  saw 
how  much  you  cared." 

Heath  smiled.  He  remembered  all  about  it.  Then 
he  glanced  at  the  passage,  a  little  amused. 

It  is  a  hard  matter  to  leave  off  that  to  which  we  are  accus- 
tomed, hut  it  is  harder  to  go  against  our  own  wills. 

But  if  thou  dost  not  overcome  little  and  easy  things,  how 
wilt   thou  overcome  harder  things?     .     . 

O  if  thou  didst  hut  consider  how  much  inward  peace  unto 
;!i.  elf,  and  joy  unto  others,  thou  shouldst  procure  by  demean- 
ing thyself  well,  I  suppose  thou  wouldest  he  more  careful  of  thy 
spiritual  progress. 

'  That  was  the  lesson  !  needed  to-night,"  said  Silence 
g(  inly.  "  If  you  are  not  tired,  Heath,  will  you  sit  down 
beside  me  for  a  few  minutes?" 


"  My  Text  is  from  Thomas  a  Kempis  "  177 

"  Am  I  ever  too  tired  to  talk  to  you,  dearest  ?  " 

"  No,  you  are  always  so  kind  and  patient.  But  I 
think  you  could  help  me  a  little  if  you  would.  But  first 
I  want  to  tell  you  how  glad,  how  truly  glad  I  am  that 
our  little  party  has  gone  off  so  well.  I  did  not  say  this 
properly  before,  and  I  know  I  disappointed  you." 

Heath  took  his  wife's  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  That  is  spoken  like  my  true-hearted  Silence." 

"  No,  you  must  not  praise  me,"  she  returned,  "  for  I 
have  not  been  good  to-night,  and  I  know  how  much  I 
tried  you.  I  have  been  trying  to  find  out  why  I  said 
such  a  strange  thing  to  you,  but  I  know  now  that  my 
heart  was  full  of  bitterness  because  I  was  so  jealous  of 
Joan." 

"  Jealous  of  that  child !  "  he  exclaimed  indignantly. 

"  Joan  is  not  a  child,  and  she  is  very  clever.  You 
must  be  my  father  confessor  to-night,  and  let  me  tell 
you  what  was  troubling  me.  I  think,  if  I  could  make 
you  understand,  that  I  should  feel  happier  about  things." 

Then  he  pressed  her  hand  without  speaking,  for  he 
began  to  see  what  was  needed.  When  she  had  purged 
her  mind  of  the  perilous  stuff  she  would  take  a  more 
sane  and  healthy  view  of  her  difficulties. 

"  It  was  during  dinner,"  she  went  on.  "  Canon  Har- 
court  was  talking  about  that  new  book — the  one  you  have 
been  reading  lately."  And  as  Heath  nodded — "  But  I 
told  him  I  had  not  read  it.  And  then  he  changed  the 
subject  rather  abruptly.  But  later  on  I  could  hear  him 
discussing  it  with  Joan,  and  she  seemed  so  interested  and 
eager  about  it,  and  talked  so  cleverly,  that  I  could  see  he 
was  quite  delighted.  They  renewed  the  conversation  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  Mr.  Trafford  and  Canon  Ramsay 
joined  them." 

"Well,  my  dear?" 

"  I  was  trying  to  talk  to  Mrs.  Harcourt,  but  even 
she  was  listening  to  the  others.  She  said  it  amused  her 
to  hear  Miss  Leigh  argue  with  her  husband.  And  oh, 
Heath,  I  am  ashamed  to  say  it,  but  I  know  I  envied  Joan ! 

12 


178  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

I  had  the  same  old  bad  feelings  that  I  used  to  have  when 
I  sat  in  the  study  of  an  evening  and  listened  to  you  two 
talking  about  things  I  knew  nothing  about.  I  pretended 
not  to  care,  but  i  often  cried  when  I  got  upstairs  for 
sheer  mortification.  1  used  to  long  to  get  rid  of  her 
because  she  always  put  me  in  the  shade  and  I  could 
never  get  you  to  myself." 

"  You  knew  it  was  wrong  to  indulge  in  such  feelings," 
he  said  quietly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  I  used  to  fight  against  them  with  all 
my  strength.  But  this  evening  I  had  such  a  hopeless, 
unhappy  feeling.  You  are  such  a  clever  man,  dearest, 
and  people  seem  to  think  so  much  of  you.  But  you  know 
what  my  education  has  been.  Why,  even  Jessica  at  nine 
years  old  knows  nearly  as  much  as  I  do.  When  the 
children  ask  me  questions  I  am  obliged  to  tell  them  I 
do  not  know — that  my  mother  took  me  away  from  school 
before  I  was  fifteen,  because  she  and  father  could  not 
part  with  me  any  longer." 

"  But  that  was  no  fault  of  yours,  dearest." 

"  No,  it  was  my  misfortune ;  and  it  is  yours  too — 
for  if  you  rise  in  the  world,  how  am  I  to  fit  myself  for  any 
high  position?  " 

"  By  being  simply  yourself,"  he  returned  calmly — 
"  your  own  clear  sensible  self.  No,  it  is  my  turn  to  talk 
now.  You  have  nothing  to  tell  me  which  I  do  not  know. 
What  is  the  use  of  crying  over  spilt  milk?  It  is  too  late 
for  you  to  go  to  school  again." 

"  But  you  once  told  me  I  ought  to  read  more."  Then 
Heath  gave  an  odd  little  laugh. 

"  Yes,  I  remember.  But  I  soon  took  the  books  and 
put  them  back  on  the  shelves,  when  you  told  me  they 
made  your  head  ache.  Try  to  look  at  the  matter  in  a 
sensible  light.  The  world  of  books  will  never  be  your 
world,  Silence.  We  might  as  well  try  to  fit  a  round 
thing  into  a  square  hole — the  thing  is  impossible.  You 
will  never  be  a  bookworm  or  a  society  woman,  but  you 
have  your  own  place  in  the  universe.     To  fill  it  wisely 


"  My  Text  is  from  Thomas  a  Kempis  "  179 

and  happily,  you  must  first  recognise  your  limitations. 
You  can't  go  through  daily  life  comfortably  if  you  are 
always  trying  to  walk  on  tiptoe.     And  as  for  envying 

the   gift    of  'others "    he    stopped,    and    his    manner 

became  impressive  even  to  sternness.  "  Envy  and  jeal- 
ousy are  the  devil's  brood ;  never  parley  with  evil  things 
even  for  a  moment.  If  we  are  to  love  our  neighbour 
as  ourself,  as  my  dearest  mother  taught  me,  we  can  hardly 
do  it  properly  if  we  are  coveting  our  neighbour's  gifts, 
or  grudging  him  his  poor  little  social  successes,  or  wish- 
ing him  twenty  miles  away  because  his  presence  casts 
us  in  the  shade. 

"  I  think  I  see  what  you  mean,  Heath — it  is  a  sin 
against  charity." 

"  Yes,  and  not  a  venial  one  either,  for  it  robs  the 
soul  of  its  peace.  As  for  Joan,  she  is  far  more  likely  to 
envy  you.  Joan  has  no  husband  to  tell  her  that  she  is 
the  one  woman  in  the  world  to  him ;  no  children  to  think 
there  is  no  one  like  mother.  O  faithless  woman,  are 
you  not  ashamed  of  yourself  by  this  time?" 

"  Indeed  I  am,  Heath.  But  you  have  helped  me  so 
much,  and  I  hope  never  to  be  so  naughty  again.  Why, 
you  have  preached  me  quite  a  sermon !  " 

"  Yes,  and  my  text  was  from  Thomas  a  Kempis. 
Shall  I  sum  up  the  three  heads  briefly? 

"  i st,  Recognise  your  limitations. 

"  2ndly,  Strangle  evil  in  its  infancy,  before  it  grows 
strong  and  strangles  you. 

"  3rdly,  Be  content  with  your  place  in  the  universe." 

Silence's  only  answer  to  this  was  one  of  those  rare 
sweet  kisses  of  hers  which  told  him  all  he  wanted  to 
know. 


XXI 

"ANOTHER  LETTER  FROM  LADY  MARY" 

Pain,  that  to  us  mortals  clings, 
Is  but  the  pushing  of  our  wings 
That  we  have  no  use  for  yet, 
And  the  uprooting  of  our  feet 
From  the  soil  where  they  are  set, 
And  the  land  we  reckon  sweet. 

Jean  Ingelow. 

Solitude  sometimes  is  best  society. — Milton. 

Silence's  naive  and  childlike  confession  of  her  igno- 
rance had  touched  her  husband  profoundly.  And  as  he 
went  to  his  dressing-room  he  felt  he  had  never  loved 
and  reverenced  her  more.  He  was  fully  aware  of  her 
deficiencies,  and  all  their  married  life  he  had  tried  to 
shield  and  help  her  in  every  possible  way. 

"  What  does  it  matter,  after  all,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  that  her  smattering  of  education  and  imperfect  knowl- 
edge make  her  feel  shy  and  tongue-tied  in  general 
society  ?  When  I  think  of  her  beautiful  nature  and  noble 
simplicity,  I  would  not  change  her  for  the  cleverest 
wife  in  Christendom.  She  is  so  absolutely  truthful.  It 
is  I  who  am  not  worthy  of  her !  " 

Canon  Leigh  had  always  supervised  his  children's 
education.  Silence  had  given  her  little  girls  a  few  simple 
lessons.  But  even  in  those  early  days  at  the  Rectory 
their  father  had  instructed  them  in  elementary  Latin  and 
French.  "  I  have  taught  all  my  children  to  read  and 
write,"  Silence  said  once  to  Joan,  "  but  I  think  Heath 
did  the  rest." 

Wanda  had  attended  a  day-school  for  a  year  or  two ; 
but  as  soon  as  they  had  settled  down  at  St.  Breda's  Lodge 
an  excellent  governess,  who  had  completed  her  educa- 
tion in  Paris  and  Dresden,  was  engaged  for  the  mornings. 

180 


"  Another  Letter  from  Lady  Mary  "    181 

Jessica's  idleness  and  pertness  no  longer  tried  her 
mother's  patience.  Miss  Locke,  who  was  firm  yet  gentle, 
knew  how  to  enforce  discipline,  and  few  complaints 
reached  her  father's  ear.  "  I  always  know  my  lessons 
perfectly  now,  mummie,"  Jess  remarked  once;  "  but  Miss 
Locke  makes  them  so  interesting,  and  then  she  always 
answers  my  questions.'" 

'  That  must  be  very  nice,  darling,"  returned  Silence 
gently.  But  when  Jess  had  run  off,  she  sighed  rather 
heavily.  There  are  plenty  of  thorns  as  well  as  flowers 
in  the  valley  of  humiliation,  as  Silence  well  knew.  Joan, 
who  had  overheard  the  child's  speech,  looked  up  from 
her  writing. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  like  Jess,"  she  said  quaintly,  "  I 
want  all  my  questions  answered.  But  I  doubt  if  I  shall 
ever  find  a  teacher  wise  enough  to  satisfy  me — I  shall 
have  to  wait  until  I  get  hold  of  my  Guardian  Angel." 
But  this  remark  rather  perplexed  Silence. 

They  saw  a  good  deal  of  Richard  Trafford  at  St. 
Breda's  Lodge.  One  of  Dick's  favourite  sayings  was — 
"  You  must  always  believe  a  man  means  what  he  says 
until  he  tells  you  a  direct  lie — after  that  you  may  form 
your  own  conclusions."  So  when  Canon  Leigh  told  him 
that  there  would  always  be  a  welcome  at  St.  Breda's 
Lodge,  Dick  took  him  at  his  word. 

He  and  Dagon  were  constant  visitors.  Dick  liked  to 
stroll  across  between  four  and  five.  The  informal  family 
ten  in  school-room  or  dining-room  pleased  him  mightily. 
"  It  is  so  much  more  satisfactory  than  my  Aunt  Felicia's 
si  >;\  dawdle,  and  gossip,"  he  said  once  to  Joan.  "  I  hate 
little  spindle-legged  tables  for  one's  cup  and  plate  ;  there 
i^  danger  of  upsetting  them  when  one  jumps  up  to  wait 
on  the  old  ladies."  But  Joan  pretended  to  be  shocked  at 
this  flippant  remark. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  your  masculine  selfishness,"  she 
returned  rather  severely.  "  You  do  not  like  the  trouble 
of  handing  hot  cakes  and  making  yourself  agreeable.  If 
the  truth  were  known,  you  think  the  old  ladies  should 
wait  on  you !  " 


182  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Oh,  we  shall  come  to  that  presently,"  replied  Dick 
with  a  twinkle.  "  The  old  order  changeth.  When  lovely 
woman  stoops  to-  folly,  yon  know — joins  hatless  brigades, 
and  plays  football  and  bridge — she  has  to  step  down  from 
her  pedestal.  In  the  days  of  our  grandmothers  and  great- 
grandmothers — delightfully  feminine  creatures,  in  spite 
of  their  coal-scuttle  bonnets  and  narrow  skirts — there 
were  none  of  these  little  games.  The  dear  charmers  put 
on  their  spencers — oh,  you  see  I  am  up  in  the  dress  of  the 
Georgian  age — armed  themselves  with  huge  muffs  and 
walking-sticks,  and  sallied  forth  to  enjoy  the  air,  and  a 
dish  of  tea  with  their  cronies.  Don't  you  see  their  minc- 
ing steps  and  the  ostrich  plumes  waving  in  the  wintry  air, 
and  the  satin  reticules  dangling  at  their  wrists  ?  " 

"  Oh,  how  ridiculous  you  are  !  "  but  it  was  evident  that 
Joan  was  well  amused.  But  Dick's  next  question  startled 
her. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  ghosts,  Miss  Leigh?  " 

"  No — yes — oh,  I  don't  know !  But  if  any  one  told 
me  a  room  was  haunted,  nothing  would  induce  me  to 
sleep  in  it." 

"  Agnostic  and  illogical — well,  well,  we  must  have 
patience  with  the  weaker  vessel !  I  am  not  going  to  raise 
any  psychological  questions ;  I  am  only  imagining  the 
astonishment  of  my  great-grandmother,  if  that  venerable 
and  long-deceased  gentlewoman  were  permitted  to  revisit 
the  haunts  of  her  youth.  Would  she  know  her  London, 
do  you  suppose,  with  its  motors  and  taxicabs,  tubes,  and 
underground  railways?  And  what  do  you  think  would 
surprise  her  most?"  But  Joan  was  quite  equal  to  the 
occasion. 

"  The  twentieth  century  young  lady,"  she  answered 
promptly. 

"  That's  so,'  returned  Dick ;  "you  may  go  up  one, 
Miss  Leigh.  But  I  will  draw  a  veil  over  the  feelings  of 
the  dear  departed.  She  would  go  back  to  her  circle  a 
wiser  and  a  sadder  woman."  Then,  with  a  sudden  transi- 
tion of  ideas — "  Are  you  aware  that  it  has  just  chimed 


"  Another  Letter  from  Lady  Mary  "    183 

the  half-hour,  and  that  my  fancy  is  conjuring  up  the 
fragrance  of  hot  tea,  alarmingly  sweetened,  and  piles  of 
cotton-wool  toast  cut  thick,  insufficiently  toasted,  and 
swimming  in  butter?" 

Joan  laughed.  "  Oh,  how  absurd  you  are !  Yes,  my 
sister-in-law  is  out,  and  we  are  going  to  have  a  school- 
room tea  this  evening.  The  children  have  made  their 
father  promise  to  join  them." 

"  Lead  on,  good  fairy,  I  am  in  luck's  way !  "  replied 
Dick  blandly.  He  had  met  Joan  returning  from  the 
town,  and  for  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour  they  had  been 
pacing  up  and  down  the  cloisters.  Joan  always  looked 
more  cheerful  when  she  was  listening  to  Dick's  nonsense. 
He  seemed  to  bring  with  him  a  whiff  of  Brantwood  air. 
He  never  paid  her  compliments,  but  there  was  a  pleasant 
sense  of  camaraderie  that  gave  them  mutual  pleasure. 

The  hour  that  followed  Dick's  entrance  into  the 
school-room  was  usually  full  of  enjoyment.  Wanda 
always  presided  at  the  tea-tray  on  these  occasions,  and 
Dick  sat  beside  her  and  took  the  sugar-bowl  under  his 
supervision,  and  Jess  and  Noel  brought  in  the  cotton- 
wool toast,  over  which  they  had  scorched  their  faces. 

"  Warren  says  this  is  the  very,  very  last  time,  father," 
observed  Jess  in  an  injured  tone,  "  and  that  she  can't 
be  fashed  with  such  doings  in  her  kitchen  after  the 
spring  clean,  so  we  must  content  ourselves  with  bread  and 
butter  and  cake.  Don't  take  that  black  bit,  Mr.  Trafford 
— Noel  has  burnt  it.  Here  is  a  nice  soft  cotton-wool  bit." 
Then  Dick  helped  himself  with  a  resigned  air. 

"We  dine  at  half-past  seven,  but  I  think  if  I  walked 
up  and  down  the  Green  for  an  hour  I  might  manage  to 
pick  up  an  appetite."  But,  as  Jess  carried  off  the  plate, 
he  surreptitiously  conveyed  the  dainty  to  Dagon,  who 
always  kept  close  to  his  master's  chair  at  tea-time. 

Happily,  Jess  did  not  notice  this.  "  When  are  you 
going  to  play  croquet  with  us,  Mr.  Trafford?  "  she  asked 
suddenly  ;  "  you  and  Wanda  have  never  given  Aunt  Joan 
ami  me  our  revenue. " 


184  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Shall  we  say  to-morrow  ?  "  returned  Dick.  But  he 
looked  at  the  demure  little  tea-maker  as  he  spoke. 

"  We  have  lessons  in  the  morning,"'  observed  Wanda, 
"  and  except  on  Saturday  I  do  not  think  Jess  and  I  can 
play  until  after  tea.  May  we  say  to-morrow,  father?" 
But  before  Canon  Leigh  could  answer,  Dick  interposed 
in  his  airy  fashion. 

"  We  will  consider  it  settled  then,  Miss  Wanda. 
There  is  no  need  to  call  in  the  dignitaries  of  the  Church 
to  settle  these  trifling  affairs,  as  too  much  familiarity 
breeds  contempt.  I  will  partake  of  Kenwyn  tea  and  toast 
and  join  you  on  the  lawn."     And  so  it  was  arranged. 

Dick  played  all  games  well.  He  always  chose  Wanda 
for  his  partner.  Jess  would  complain  of  this  sometimes. 
"  You  always  beat  us ;  I  don't  think  we  are  fairly 
matched,"  she  would  say.  "  Wanda  plays  better  than  I 
do,  so  I  ought  to  be  your  partner."  But  Dick  did  not 
seem  to  see  this. 

Silence  seldom  played  unless  she  were  alone  with 
her  children.  She  liked  better  to  watch  her  husband 
and  Joan.  More  than  once,  when  Dick  Trafford  came 
up  to  wish  her  good-night,  with  his  brown,  handsome 
face  flushed  with  exercise,  the  thought  crossed  her  mind 
— If  only  Joan  had  cared  for  him,  how  much  happier  it 
would  have  been  for  every  one!  "They  are  such  good 
friends,  and  seem  to  have  so  much  in  common,"  she 
thought.  But  she  would  have  been  surprised  if  she  had 
known  that  such  an  idea  had  never  seriously  entered 
Dick's  head. 

Joan's  cheerfulness  was  due  to  more  than  one  cause. 
The  idea  of  those  weeks  at  Folkestone  had  greatly  raised 
her  spirits. 

"  I  must  not  build  upon  it  too  much,"  she  would  say 
to  herself,  "  for,  of  course,  something  may  come  to  pre- 
vent it."  But  all  the  same  Joan  was  grievously  disap- 
pointed when  her  pleasant  little  castle  in  the  air  was 
dashed  to  the  ground. 

"  Another  letter  from  Lady  Mary,"  observed  Canon 


"  Another  Letter  from  Lady  Mary  "    185 

Leigh  in  surprise  one  morning  as  he  caught  sight  of  the 
handwriting.  "  Why,  you  only  heard  from  her  yester- 
day, my  dear  " — as  Joan,  with  rather  a  perturbed  expres- 
sion carried  off  her  letter  to  the  window.  Before  she 
opened  the  envelope  she  was  sure  that  it  contained  no 
good  news. 

"  Oh,  my  dearest  child,"  wrote  Lady  Mary,  "  we  had  such 
a  harassing  day  yesterday.  Dorothy  came  down  to  me  before  I 
had  finished  breakfast.  They  had  such  bad  news  of  Josselyn. 
That  young  doctor — Dr.  Hallett,  I  think  is  his  name — had 
written  to  his  father.  Poor  dear  Josselyn  had  broken  a  blood- 
vessel;  he  had  done  something  imprudent,  and  severe  haemor- 
rhage had  set  in.  Happily  Dr.  Hallett  was  on  the  spot,  and  the 
proper  remedies  were  at  once  applied.  Josselyn  was  slightly 
better  when  Dr.  Hallett  wrote.  My  brother  read  to  her  the  con- 
cluding passages  of  his  letter. 

' '  I  do  not  think  it  right  to  conceal  from  your  lordship  that 
your  son  is  in  a  very  critical  condition,  and  if  there  should  be  a 
return  of  the  haemorrhage,  that  one  could  not  answer  for  the 
consequences.  We  have  been  fortunate  in  securing  the  services 
of  an  excellent  English  nurse,  Sister  Rose  of  Guy's.  She  was 
staying  at  the  hotel  with  a  sister  and  at  once  undertook  the 
case.  She  has  promised  to  stay  until  Lord  Josselyn  is  out  of 
danger,  so  you  may  rest  assured  that  he  has  every  care  and 
attention.' 

"  My  poor  brother  is  terribly  cut  up,  Joan,  and  Lady  Merriton 
looks  as  ill  as  possible.  Of  course  they  are  going  off  to  Josselyn 
at  once,  and  Dorothy  will  accompany  them.  They  had  just  sent 
for  Craig  and  were  expecting  him  every  moment,  but  they 
have  no  hope  that  he  will  be  able  to  leave  at  present,  as  the 
manoeuvres  begin  on  Thursday.  By  the  time  this  letter  reaches 
you  they  will  be  well  on  their  way.  Oh,  dear  Joan,  what  a 
world  of  trouble  this  is !  Of  course  our  pleasant  little  Folkestone 
scheme  is  in  abeyance.  I  must  stay  at  Morningside  and  be  ready 
for  Craig  if  he  wants  me.  I  am  sending  you  their  address  in 
case  you  would  like  to  write  to  Dorothy.  It  was  a  blessing  that 
Cicely  O'Brien  had  just  left,  for  she  would  have  been  sadly  in 
the  way  just  now."  And  then  with  a  few  loving  words  Lady 
Mary  concluded  her  letter. 

Canon  Leigh  looked  at  Joan  rather  anxiously  as  she 
handed  the  letter  to  him.  The  girl's  face  looked  quite 
pale  and  drawn. 


186  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  You  had  better  read  it  for  yourself,"  she  said 
"  They  are  in  trouble  at  the  Abbey  ;  Lord  Josselyn  is  verj, 
ill.  No,  I  have  finished  my  breakfast,"  as  Silence  mutely 
pointed  to  her  plate ;  "  I  am  going  out."  Heath  read  the 
letter  to  his  wife. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  a  bad  business,"  he  said  gravely  ; 
"  Lord  Josselyn  is  always  doing  something  foolish,  and  I 
am  afraid  he  has  done  it  once  too  often,  poor  reckless 
fellow !  Joan  seems  to  take  it  to  heart ;  but  then  she  and 
Lady  Dorothy  are  like  sisters." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Silence  in  a  low  voice,  "  and  she 
knows  that  his  brother's  death  would  only  make  it  still 
more  impossible  for  her  to  marry  Captain  Bastow." 

"  You  seem  to  be  quite  sure  in  your  own  mind  that 
Joan  cares  for  him,"  observed  Heath. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  quite  sure  of  that,"  she  replied  simply, 
as  she  took  up  her  tea-caddy  and  key-basket  and  went 
off  to  give  orders,  leaving  her  husband  still  ruminating 
over  Lady  Mary's  letter. 

The  bells  were  not  yet  ringing  for  morning  service 
when  Joan  entered  the  Cathedral,  but  she  had  no  inten- 
tion of  attending  matins.  She  sought  out  her  favourite 
verger  and  asked  him  to  unlock  the  door  leading  to  the 
crypt.  How  still  and  solemn  and  silent  it  was  in  the 
morning  light !  Here  and  there  a  shaft  of  sunlight  from 
one  of  the  deeply-set  windows  slanted  between  the  Nor- 
man pillars. 

Joan  went  straight  to  her  favourite  little  chapel  and 
sat  down  on  a  bench  in  a  dim  corner.  Overhead  they 
would  soon  be  chanting  matins.  Silence  would  be  in  her 
usual  place,  with  Mrs.  Ramsay's  peaceful  face  in  the 
opposite  choir  stall.  But  Joan  had  no  intention  of  join- 
ing them.  Her  heart  was  too  heavy  to  bear  the  sound  of 
the  pealing  organ  and  fresh  boys'  voices.  Her  corner 
in  the  quiet  little  chapel  suited  her  far  better.  She  was 
safe  from  intrusion  for  the  present.  No  curious  sight- 
seers would  be  wandering  in  all  directions  until  recalled 
by  a  garrulous  verger.     Here  she  could  sit  and  think, 


"  Another  Letter  from  Lady  Mary  "    187 

or  kneel  and  offer  up  pitiful,  disconnected  little  petitions 
for  poor  Josselyn  and  his  unhappy  parents,  for  Craig 
and  herself. 

Poor  Joan,  she  had  never  been  more  unhappy.  "  One 
must  always  hope,"  she  had  written ;  but  it  seemed  to 
her,  in  that  dark  hour,  that  hope  had  died  a  natural 
death. 

"  Josselyn  will  die,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  he  is  prac- 
tically dying-  now.  And  then  Craig  will  be  lost  to  me. 
Oh,  my  darling,  and  I  love  and  miss  you  more  every 
day !  "  And  bitter  tears  of  self-pity  and  yearning  rose 
to  the  girl's  eyes.  How  real — how  terribly  intense  are 
the  sorrows  of  youth !  All  her  life  long  Joan  would  never 
quite  forget  those  hours  in  St.  Breda's  crypt,  when  Hop? 
shook  his  rainbow-tinted  wings  and  prepared  for  flight. 
.Since  the  days  of  Eve,  how  many  of  her  daughters  have 
had  with  their  own  weak  hands  to  shut  themselves  out  of 
their  Eden !  The  angels  that  stand  sentinel  there,  and 
who  sternly  forbid  return,  are  known  by  many  names — 
Duty,  Right,  Self-sacrifice — but  each  one  bears  a  flaming 
sword. 

"  He  will  not  come  now — he  dare  not,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "  And  yet,  if  I  could  see  him  once  and  hear 
his  voice  again.  But  it  would  not  be  right,  and  he  will 
not  do  it.  If  I  could  only  be  with  my  dear  Lady  Mary," 
she  thought  presently,  "  I  could  bear  things  better."  And 
as  fresh  tears  coursed  down  her  cheeks,  the  quaint,  sweet 
verse  Lady  Mary  had  quoted  to  her  came  to  her  recol- 
lection : 

What  if  to-morrow's  cares  were  here 

Without  its  rest? 
I'd  rather  He'd  unlocked  the  day, 
And  as  its  hours  swung  open  say, 
"  My  will  is  best." 

"Shall  I  ever  be  able  to  say  that  really?"  thought 
Joan. 


XXII 

FROM  THE  HOTEL  DE  MONTAGNE 

To  forget  is  not  to  be  restored ; 

To  lose  with  time  the  sense  of  what  we  did 

Cancels  not  what  we  did;  what's  done  remains. 

Clough. 

Of  true  contrition  and  humbling  of  the  heart  ariseth  hope  of 
forgiveness. — Thomas  a  Kempis. 

Joan  was  so  unapproachable  that  day  that,  though 
Silence's  good,  womanly  heart  was  full  of  sympathy  for 
the  girl's  evident  unhappiness,  she  did  not  venture  to  ex- 
press it.  Joan  shut  herself  up  in  her  room  and  wrote  a 
long  letter  to  Lady  Mary  and  a  shorter  one  to  Dorothy, 
and  she  posted  them  herself. 

When  Dick  Trafford  strolled  across  to  St.  Breda's 
Lodge  after  tea,  Wanda  told  him  that  Aunt  Joan  had 
gone  for  a  long  walk.  As  usual,  Jess  put  in  her  word. 
"  Aunt  Joan  said  she  was  tired  and  did  not  want  to  talk 
or  play  games.  She  has  been  quite  glum  all  day,  hasn't 
she,  Wanda?  Mummie  will  have  to  take  her  place.  If 
you  ask  her  very  nicely,  Mr.  Trafford,  I  am  sure  she 
will  not  refuse."  And  as  Dick's  embassage  was  success- 
ful, Joan  found  the  game  in  full  swing  when  she  returned 
from  her  walk. 

She  had  tired  herself  into  that  state  of  non-thinking 
passivity  which  is  like  a  lull  after  a  storm.  But,  as  she 
stood  watching  the  final  contest,  Dick's  keen  glance 
noticed  her  weary  listlessness  and  want  of  animation. 
"  There  is  something  very  much  amiss,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  she  looks  a  bit  bowled  over."  And  then  it  struck 
him  how  much  of  Joan's  charm  lay  in  her  sunny,  viva- 
cious expression  and  lightsome,  debonnaire  flow  of  spirits. 

"  She  is  picturesque  and  taking,  but  she  is  not  the 

188 


From  the  Hotel  De  Montagne         189 

least  pretty,"  he  went  on ;  "  she  cannot  hold  a  candle  to 
her  beautiful  little  niece."  And  here  Dick  gave  a  final 
hit  to  his  ball  which  finished  the  game  and  covered  him- 
self and  his  partner  with  glory. 

"  You  and  Wanda  have  won  as  usual,"  observed  Jess 
in  an  injured  voice.  "  I  knew  there  was  no  chance  with 
mummie,  and  I  am  so  tired  of  being  always  on  the  losing 
side." 

"  I  am  in  Miss  Jessica's  bad  books,  I  see,"  observed 
Dick.  Then  Wanda  looked  up  at  him  a  little  beseech- 
ingly. 

"  Would  you  very  much  mind  having  Jess  just  once 
for  your  partner,  Mr.  Trafford?  I  know  she  does  not 
play  well,  but  she  would  be  so  happy  to  win  one  game." 
And  as  Dick's  good-nature  could  not  resist  this  appeal, 
Jess's  discontent  soon  changed  into  rapture. 

She  woke  Noel  up  for  the  purpose  of  telling  him  the 
good  news.  "  I  am  to  be  Mr.  Traffbrd's  partner  to- 
morrow— isn't  that  lovely  !  " 

"  Don't  know  anything  about  it,"  returned  the  little 
boy  drowsily.  "  Good-night,  Bill ;  shut  the  door."  And 
Jess  flounced  off  to  find  another,  more  sympathising 
auditor. 

Joan  pulled  herself  together  the  next  day  and  re- 
sumed her  usual  habits,  though  she  was  so  grave  and 
silent  that  Canon  Leigh  more  than  once  debated  with  him- 
self whether  he  should  speak  to  her ;  but  her  manner 
deterred  him,  and  Silence  advised  him  to  leave  her  alone. 

"  When  people  are  in  suspense,  they  are  often  too 
much  on  edge  to  bear  any  talk.  T  should  not  try  to  force 
her  confidence,  Heath ;  one  can  see  how  terribly  worried 
she  is."  And  Canon  Leigh  took  his  wife's  advice,  and 
contented  himself  with  asking  Joan  if  her  letter  from 
Ladv  Mary  contained  any  fresh  news  of  the  invalid,  and 
Joan  would  give  him  some  brief  answer. 

"  There  was  a  slight  improvement,  Dr.  Hallett 
thought,  but  they  were  not  to  build  on  it.  Lord  Josselyn 
was  unable  to  talk,  but  he  had  seemed  pleased  to  see  his 


190  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

parents  and  Dorothy."  Such  were  the  items  of  news  that 
Joan  extracted  from  her  daily  letter  from  Brantwood. 
And  so  it  went  on  for  the  next  few  days.  Lady  Mary's 
letters  were  short,  for  she  had  little  to  narrate.  Craig 
tvas  at  the  manoeuvres,  and  she  had  only  seen  him  once. 
Me  had  looked  tired  and  depressed.  He  had  dined  with 
her,  and  the}-  had  had  a  good  deal  of  talk.  One  sentence 
in  Lady  Mary's  letter  had  given  Joan  a  secret  satisfaction. 

I  am  afraid  the  O'Brien  scheme  is  not  making  much  progress. 
I  asked  after  Lady  Cicely,  but  Craig  did  not  seem  to  know  any- 
thing about  her.  "  I  expect  Dorothy  keeps  up  a  correspondence 
with  her;  "  but  he  said  this  so  carelessly,  as  though  the  subject 
did  not  interest  him.  Poor  Lady  Merriton,  how  disappointed 
she  must  be ! 

Joan's  cheeks  glowed  as  she  read  this.  She  wanted 
to  kiss  Lady  Mary  for  giving  her  that  little  bit  of  com- 
fort. Then  she  took  herself  severely  to  task.  What  did 
she  mean  by  being  so  selfish?  Would  it  not  be  the  best 
and  happiest  thing  in  the  world  for  Craig  if  he  could 
only  care  enough  for  that  sweet  Lady  Cicely?  No  one 
could  make  him  a  better  wife.  Oh,  if  I  were  only  not 
in  his  way!"  thought  Joan  remorsefully;  "I  am  just 
a  stumbling-block  to  them  all." 

A  few  days  later  Lady  Mary's  letter  contained  one 
from  her  niece.  "  I  thought  Dorothy's  letter  would  in- 
terest you,"  she  wrote,  "  and  she  has  no  time  to  write  to 
us  both.  You  can  return  it  in  your  next."  And  Joan 
carried  it  off  to  read  at  her  leisure,  in  a  certain  quiet  nook 
in  the  kitchen  garden  which  she  much  affected.  There 
was  a  rustic  seat  and  table  under  a  gnarle  1  old  apple 
tree,  and  when  she  sat  there  a  robin  was  gcnerallv  in 
attendance.  It  was  a  quiet  little  corner,  so  shut  in  with 
1  'a  •  and  syringe  bushes  that  am-  one  sitting  there  was 
quite  hidden.  Canon  Leigh  often  took  possession  of  it 
when  he  was  studying  the  subject  for  his  next  sermon. 

Lady  Dorothy's  handwriting  was  beautiful.  It  was 
as  clear  and  legible  as  print,  and  Lady  Marv  would 
sometimes  remark  that  it  was  quite  an  accomplishment. 


From  the  Hotel  De  Montagne        191 

"  1  can  read  Dollie's  letters  without  the  aid  of  my  lorg- 
nette," she  would  observe. 

"  At  last  I  have  leisure  for  a  proper  letter,  dearest  Aunt 
Mary,"  wrote  Lady  Dorothy,  "  after  those  scrappy  notes  which 
I  scribbled  off  so  hurriedly.  But  you  know  poor  dear  mother 
was  so  ill  during  the  journey,  with  all  the  suspense  and  anxiety, 
and  not  knowing  what  news  might  await  us,  that  wc  were  all 
quite  troubled  about  her — indeed,  I  never  saw  father  in  such  a 
state.     How  I  wished  Craig  could  have  been  with  us. 

"  Dr.  Hallett  was  at  the  station  to  meet  us,  and  his  report 
was  better  than  we  dared  to  expect.  Arthur  was  no  worse — 
but  I  think  I  have  told  you  this  before,  though  my  bulletins  were 
too  brief  for  any  details.  We  are  all  so  pleased  with  Dr.  Hallett. 
Mother  is  especially  taken  with  him.  As  we  drove  to  the  hotel, 
he  gave  us  the  fullest  account  of  poor  dear  Arthur's  illness.  He 
had  disobeyed  his  doctor's  orders,  and  declaring  that  he  was 
quite  fit  for  the  exertion,  he  actually  did  a  little  bit  of  climbing. 
There  was  some  view  he  wanted  to  see ;  the  climb  was  trifling — 
not  many  hundred  yards — but  before  he  had  accomplished  half 
the  distance  he  was  in  such  a  state  they  could  scarcely  get  him 
back  to  the  hotel.  Happily  Dr.  Hallett  was  on  the  spot,  or  he 
would  not  have  been  alive  now.  It  was  the  most  reckless  impru- 
dence, and  even  his  friends  tried  to  dissuade  him ;  but  you  know 
Arthur's  obstinacy  when  he  is  set  on  a  thing.  Dr.  Hallett  told 
us  that  he  could  not  allow  us  to  see  him  that  night,  as  the 
excitement  might  give  him  a  bad  night ;  but  he  promised  that 
we  should  see  him  in  the  morning,  and  that  he  would  give  us 
the  latest  account  before  we  retired  to  rest.  I  never  saw  any 
one  so  kind  and  thoughtful. 

"The  Hotel  de  Montagne  is  not  so  full  as  usual  just  now, 
and  we  have  quite  a  delightful  suite  of  rooms.  They  are  in  the 
same  corridor  as  Arthur's — so  quiet,  and  with  such  lovely  views 
from  the  balcony.  But  no  one  except  father  had  time  to  take 
much  notice  of  our  environment,  for  mother  was  so  worn  out 
that  Justine  and  I  had  to  help  her  to  bed.  Later  on  in  the 
evening,  as  I  was  sitting  with  mother,  there  was  a  knock  on  the 
door  and  Sister  Rose  came  in.  Dr.  Hallett  had  sent  her,  she 
said,  to  sec  if  there  was  anything  she  could  do  for  our  comfort. 
She  said  her  patient  was  inclined  to  sleep.  He  had  no  idea  his 
people  had  arrived,  though  she  fancied  from  something  he  had 
said  that  he  was  expecting  us.  Mother  made  her  sit  down  and 
talk  to  us.  Oh.  dear  Aunt  Mary,  she  is  one  of  the  sweetest 
women  I  ever  saw.  and  we  have  all  fallen  in  love  with  her.  Dr. 
Hallett  told  us  about  her  the  next  day.  She  is  a  Mountjoy. 
Her  father  belongs  to  the  younger  branch  of  the  family,  and  they 


192  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

were  so  poor.  Then  she  married  a  certain  Captain  Osborne  in 
the  Hussars,  and  about  a  year  afterwards  he  was  killed  in  a 
frontier  war,  and  the  poor  young  widow  was  left  with  very  little 
to  maintain  her.  A  child,  a  boy,  was  born  about  three  months 
after  her  husband's  death,  but  he  only  lived  six  weeks.  As  soon 
as  she  had  recovered  from  this  second  shock,  .Sister  Rose  refused 
to  stay  at  home  and  be  a  burden  to  her  father,  and  determined 
to  devote  herself  to  nursing. 

"  You  should  have  heard  Dr.  Hallett's  enthusiastic  praises ! 
He  declared  that  she  had  a  perfect  genius  for  nursing — that 
her  touch  and  voice  always  seemed  to  soothe  her  patient.  '  Nurs- 
ing is  with  her  a  labour  of  love,'  he  observed.  '  Where  the 
invalid  needs  her  she  never  seems  to  consider  herself  at  all. 
Her  sister,  Mrs.  Wetherell,  told  me  this,'  he  went  on,  '  and 
begged  that  I  would  exert  my  authority  as  a  medical  man  and 
induce  her  to  take  a  needful  rest.  "  She  has  had  a  great  deal 
of  hard  work,"  she  continued,  "  and  has  come  abroad  for  a 
month's  holiday,  and  now  Lord  Josselyn's  unfortunate  illness 
will  spoil  her  trip."  Of  course,  when  Mrs.  Wetherell  said  this, 
I  offered  to  set  her  free,  but  Sister  Rose  would  not  listen  to 
either  of  us ;  and  I  think,  Lady  Merriton,  that  we  cannot  be  too 
thankful  that  Lord  Josselyn  has  such  a  devoted  and  skilful  nurse.' 

"  In  spite  of  all  this  kindness  and  comfort,  I  don't  think 
we  any  of  us  slept  much  that  night,  and  after  breakfast  father 
was  in  such  a  restless,  irritable  condition  that  he  went  out  for  a 
little  stroll.  But  he  was  only  just  out  of  sight  when  Dr.  Hallett 
came  to  take  us  to  Arthur's  room.  He  seemed  rather  glad  father 
had  gone  out,  and  said  that  it  would  be  better  for  him  to  see 
his  son  later  on ;  and  then  he  told  mother  that  she  must  be  as 
quiet  and  calm  as  possible,  as  his  patient  was  very  weak  and 
must  not  talk. 

"  Oh,  dear  Aunt  Mary,  all  Dr.  Hallett's  kindly  warnings  had 
not  prepared  me  for  the  shock  of  Arthur's  changed  appearance. 
Tie  looked  so  shrunken  and  ghastly  that  I  could  not  check  my 
tear-  !  But,  would  you  believe  it,  mother  was  so  beautifully  calm. 
She  just  went  up  and  kissed  him.  'My  darling  boy,'  she  said, 
'  Dollie  and  I  have  come  to  see  you,  and  your  father  will  be  here 
presently.  No,  you  must  not  talk — you  are  far  too  weak — but 
I  shall  love  to  sit  by  you  and  look  at  you.'  It  was  just  mother's 
nursery  voice — you  know  what  I  mean.  I  really  think  for  the 
moment  that  she  fancied  Arthur  was  a  little  boy  again. 

"  Poor  fellow,  he  seemed  quite  touched,  and  I  am  sure  that 
he  was  pleased  to  see  us.  I  heard  him  say  in  a  sort  of  whisper, 
so  that  Sister  Rose  should  not  hear  him,  'that  he  was  not  worth 
all  this  kindness.'  But  mother  only  kissed  his  hand  and  told 
him  that  he  must  be  good  and  lie  still,  or  we  should  not  be 
allowed  to  stay. 


From  the  Hotel  De  Montagne        193 

"  1  crept  away  soon  after  this,  but  mother  remained  there 
for  nearly  an  hour.  Oh,  Justine  has  come  to  interrupt  me. 
Mother  wants  me,  she  says,  so  I  must  leave  off  for  the  present, 
but  I  shall  hope  to  finish  before  post  time. 

'"  3  p.m. — At  last  I  have  a  quiet  half-hour  to  complete  my 
letter,  so  I  will  go  on  with  my  narrative.  I  know  I  shall  not 
weary  you,  dear,  for  you  are  just  one  of  us,  and  all  our  troubles 
are  yours.  As  soon  as  Arthur  had  had  some  rest,  Sister  Rose 
came  to  fetch  father.  Mother  went  with  him.  Arthur  seemed 
far  more  agitated  when  father  spoke  to  him  than  he  had  been 
with  us. 

" '  I  am  not  worth  all  this  trouble,  father,'  he  said  in  his 
poor  husky  voice.  And  a  moment  later — '  I  have  been  nothing 
but  a  disappointment  to  you  and  my  mother  all  my  life,  and  it 
is  my  own  fault  that  I  am  lying  here  now.  If  I  die  it  will  be 
better  for  you  all.'  It  was  Sister  Rose  who  told  me  this.  She 
said  poor  father  was  so  distressed  that  he  could  not  speak.  But 
mother  said  quietly,  '  You  must  not  upset  your  father,  Arthur , 
you  do  not  mean  to  pain  us,  my  dear.  We  can  remember  nothing 
now  but  that  our  boy  is  suffering  and  needs  our  love.  "  Like  as 
a  father  pitieth  his  children " — Oh,  you  know  the  rest,  my 
darling.'  Sister  Rose  said  there  was  something  so  touching  and 
beautiful  in  the  way  mother  said  this  that  she  could  hardly 
refrain  from  tears. 

' '  We  had  to  get  Lord  Merriton  away  after  that,'  she  went  on. 
'  Rut  Lord  Josselyn  would  not  allow  his  mother  to  go.  I  have 
left  them  together — he  has  just  fallen  asleep  holding  her  hand. 
"  As  one  whom  his  mother  comforteth  " — Lady  Dorothy,  these 
words  have  been  haunting  me  all  the  morning.'  There  was  such 
a  sweet  smile  on  Sister  Rose's  face  as  she  said  that. 

"  Since  that  first  day  mother  has  been  almost  constantly  in 
the  sick-room.  She  takes  no  part  in  the  nursing,  of  course,  but 
she  sits  quietly  by  the  bed  where  Arthur  can  see  her — pretending 
to  work  or  read.  As  she  gives  no  trouble  and  her  presence 
seems  to  soothe  Arthur,  Dr.  Hallett  makes  no  objection  to  this. 
Father  and  I  only  go  in  every  night  and  morning.  But  we  never 
stay  long.  In  some  strange  way,  father's  visits  seem  to  disturb 
Arthur.  Now  and  then  he  says  a  word  about  his  father's  looks. 
'  He  seems  aged  somehow,'  he  observed  once ;  '  he  never  used  to 
have  those  wrinkles,  and  he  has  grown  so  grey.'  Poor  mother 
hardly  knew  how  to  answer  him.  '  Your  father  has  had  so  much 
trouble,  Arthur.  I  do  not  think  he  has  ever  got  over  the  loss 
of  Archie  and  Clyde,  And  now  this  fresh  anxiety.'  But  Arthur 
interrupted  her.  '  It  is  I  wh©  am  my  father's  worst  trouble,' 
h<>  srroaned,  'though  you  are  too  kind  to  tell  me  so,  mother.' 

"  r-»'-nr  Aunt  Mary,  we  are  all  so  thankful  t«  see  real  evidence 
13 


194  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

of  penitence  and  right  feeling  on  Arthur's  part.  An  old  clergy- 
man, Canon  Morse,  has  just  arrived  at  the  hotel  with  his  daugh- 
ter. Mother  knows  him  very  well  hy  name.  He  is  a  very  saintly 
old  man,  and  has  done  a  wonderful  work  as  a  missioner.  She  is 
going  to  ask  him  to  see  Arthur.  I  am  not  sure  that  Dr.  Hallett 
quite  approves — he  is  so  afraid  of  any  excitement — but  when 
mother  said  she  was  certain  it  would  be  a  comfort  to  Arthur, 
he  could  not  withhold  his  consent.  As  we  find  Sister  Rose  knows 
Canon  Morse  well,  there  will  be  no  difficulty  about  an  introduc- 
tion. She  will  speak  to  him  after  table  d'hote.  Now,  I  really 
must  conclude. — With  love  from  us  all,  your  devoted  niece, 

"  Dorothy." 


XXIII 

THE  COMING  OF  AZRAEL 

Pray  for  me,  O  my  friends !  a  Visitant 
Is  knocking  his  dire  summons  at  my  door, 
The  like  of  whom  to  scare  me  and  to  daunt 
Has  never,  never  come  to  me  before! 
'Tis  Death — O  loving  friends !  your  prayers ! 
Tis  He! 

Newman. 

Joan  expressed  so  much  gratitude  for  Lady  Mary's 
thoughtfulness  in  allowing-  her  to  read  Lady  Dorothy's 
letter  that  her  kind  friend  in  future  made  copious  extracts 
from  her  niece's  letters  before  she  sent  them  on  to  Craig. 

"  Dolly  is  a  famous  correspondent,"  she  wrote  once ;  "  she 
always  tells  me  what  I  most  want  to  know.  She  writes  so 
naturally,  and  yet  so  clearly,  that  we  can  realise  things  as  though 
we  were   there." 

One  of  these  extracts  was  full  of  Canon  Morse's  visits 
to  Lord  Josselyn. 

Of  course  Arthur  sees  him  alone.  Sister  Rose  always  remains 
in  the  outer  room,  just  out  of  earshot,  so  no  one  knows  exactly 
what  passes  between  them.  Arthur  is  so  extremely  reticent 
that  he  does  not  even  speak  of  them  to  mother,  but  she  is  quite 
sure  that  the  visits  give  him  comfort.  He  said  once  that  Canon 
Morse  was  a  wonderful  man,  and  that  he  wished  that  he  had 
come  across  him  before.  Mother  thinks  that  he  is  quietly  getting 
an  influence  over  him,  and  there  is  always  a  calmer  look  on 
Arthur's  face  after  one  of  these  short  interviews. 

Canon  Morse  is  really  splendid  with  father  also.  He  takes 
him  out  for  walks  and  tries  to  interest  him.  His  daughter,  too, 
is  an  extremely  nice  woman,  though  she  is  rather  an  invalid. 
They  are  devoted  to  each  other,  and  it  is  beautiful  to  see  them 
together.  There  is  something  so  venerable  and  apostolic  about 
the  dear  old  man.  I  told  Dr.  Hallett  that  he  reminded  me  of 
St.  John  in  Patmos,  but  he  only  smiled  in  an  inscrutable  way. 
Sister  Rose  told  me  afterwards  that  she  feared  that,  with  all 
his  cleverness  and  kindness,  he  had  not  much  sense  of  religion. 

195 


196  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

But,  all  the  same,  he  seems  to  respect  Canon  Morse  and  to  defer 
to  his  opinion  quite  nicely.  You  will  see  by  all  this  that  things 
are  going  on  tolerably  smoothly.  I  am  afraid  Arthur  is  no 
stronger,  though  he  seems  less  depressed.  He  talks  very  little, 
but  he  likes  father  to  read  the  paper  to  him  when  he  is  able  to 
bear  it,  and  he  remembers  people  and  asks  after  them  quite 
kindly.  Will  you  tell  Joan  when  you  write  to  her  that  he  was 
speaking  of  her  yesterday?  I  am  sure  she  will  be  pleased  to 
hear  that.  He  called  her  the  jolly  little  redhaired  girl — just  in 
his  old  teasing  way.  Joan  will  recollect  how  angry  I  used  to 
get  when  Arthur  said  this,  and  I  used  to  argue  that  her  hair  was 
auburn  or  ruddy  brown,  not  red.  He  was  asking  after  Marjorie 
Colvin  the  other  day,  and  seemed  surprised  that  she  was  not 
married.  And  then  he  looked  at  mother.  "  If  I  had  taken  your 
advice,  madre,  she  would  have  been  Lady  Josselyn  now ;  but  I 
was  a  bad  boy  and  did  not  seem  to  see  it."  And  a  few  minutes 
later  he  said  such  a  strange  thing.  "  Tell  Craig  from  me  that  he 
could  not  do  better  than  marry  the  little  O'Brien  girl — what's 
her  name?  I  seem  to  forget  everything  now."  Then,  as  I 
reminded  him — "  Oh,  yes,  Lady  Cicely — a  pretty  little  brunette. 
I  admire  her  more  than  her  cousin — got  more  go  and  animation 
about  her.  Lady  Marjorie  is  a  bit  heavy  in  hand.  Tell  old  Craig 
that  I  hope  he  will  be  a  better  boy  than  I  was,  and  give  him  my 
love."  There  was  such  a  pained  look  on  mother's  face  when 
he  said  this.  "  Dollie,  my  dear,  you  must  not  let  Arthur  talk 
so  much  or  we  shall  get  into  disgrace  with  Sister  Rose,"  she 
observed  as  quietly  as  possible.  But  something  in  her  voice  made 
Arthur  give  her  such  a  curious  intent  look.  "  Poor  mother,"  I 
heard  him  say  under  his  breath,  and  I  am  almost  sure  there 
were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

Joan  was  reading  this  letter  at  the  breakfast-table, 
and  as  she  laid  it  down  she  addressed  her  brother  quite 
cheerfully. 

"  Heath,  do  you  know,  the  accounts  of  Lord  Josselyn 
are  reallv  better  to-day.  Dorothy  seems  quite  in  good 
spirits.  I  begin  to  think  that  he  will  not  die  after  all, 
and  that  Lady  Merriton  will  have  her  wish  granted  to 
have  him  at  the  Abbey  again." 

Canon  Leigh  looked  at  her  rather  dubiously. 

"Do  you  think  we  ought  to  wish  that,  Joan?  Lord 
Josselyn  will  always  be  an  invalid." 

"  Oh,  but  he  would  have  time  to  make  up  to  his 
parents  for  some  of  the  pain  he  has  caused  them,"  re- 


The  Coming  of  Azrael  197 

turned  Joan  eagerly.  "  All  these  years  Lady  Merriton 
has  longed  and  fretted  after  him,  and  now  she  seems  to 
have  got  him  again,  and  Dorothy  says  she  is  so  happy." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  returned  Heath  slowly;  "  but 
I  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  similar  cases, and  I  can- 
not advise  you  to  build  on  any  temporary  improvement. 
Very  often  when  it  is  least  expected  there  is  a  sudden 
return  of  the  mischief."  And  though  Joan  refused  to  be 
disheartened,  and  clung  to  her  belief,  Canon  Leigh  proved 
a  true  prophet. 

Three  days  later  there  was  a  black-edged  envelope 
on  Joan's  plate,  with  a  brief  note  from  Lady  Mary. 

"  The  end  has  come,"'  she  wrote  hurriedly.  "  My  brother 
has  just  sent  me  a  telegram:  'Josselyn  died  this  morning — 
return  of  haemorrhage,  quite  sudden ;  will  write.'  Craig  had  one 
too ;  he  is  going  to  them  at  once.  I  know  no  particulars,  but 
of  course  they  will  bring  the  poor  dear  boy  home.  I  must  write 
to  my  brother  and  Lady  Merriton,  so  I  have  no  time  for  more." 

Later  in  the  day,  as  Joan  was  trying  to  combat  her 
restlessness  by  helping  Silence  with  a  frock  for  Jessica 
which  she  was  anxious  to  finis1.-!,  Silence  said  suddenly: 

"  Do  you  really  think  that  they  will  bring  Lord  Josse- 
lyn to  England  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  a  doubt  of  it,"  returned  Joan  wearily. 
The  girl's  face  was  very  pale  and  her  eyes  heavy,  but  her 
voice  was  quite  calm.  "  Lord  Merriton  woukl  wish  his 
eldest  son  to  be  buried  in  the  family  vault.  Both  his 
grandfather  and  great-grandfather  were  laid  to  rest  in 
Kilverton  churchyard." 

"  Kilverton  ?  "  murmured  Silence  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  Kilverton  used  to  be  the  family  place  in  the 
palmy  days  of  the  Merritons.  Only  for  some  reason — 
the  unhealthiness  of  the  situation  probably,  for  the  Hall 
was  in  a  valley,  and  was  quite  shut  in  by  trees — Lord 
Merriton's  father  took  such  a  dislike  to  it  that  he  refused 
to  live  there.  T  believe  two  of  the  children  died  there 
from  diphtheria ;  anyhow,  neither  he  nor  his  wife  would 
ever  make  it  their  home  again." 


198  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  I  can  quite  understand  that,  Joan." 

"  Oh,  so  can  I.  But,  all  the  same,  it  does  seem  such 
a  pity ;  it  is  such  a  picturesque,  stately  old  house.  Brant- 
wood  Abbey  cannot  compare  with  it.  Lord  Merriton 
told  me  one  day,  when  he  was  showing  me  some  beautiful 
photographs  of  the  place,  that  it  had  been  discovered 
that  the  Hall  was  built  over  an  old,  badly-drained  swamp. 
It  is  certainly  awfully  damp,  and  a  part  is  no  longer  habit- 
able. But  the  Bastows,  with  the  exception  of  Clyde  and 
Archie,  are  all  buried  in  Kilverton  churchyard.  They 
have  a  huge  vault  there  like  a  room,  with  stained-glass 
windows.  But  what  Lady  Mary  likes  best  is  a  life-sized 
angel  who  seems  to  guard  the  entrance,  with  a  scroll  in 
his  hand  with  '  Resurgam  '  on  it." 

"  'I  will  arise' — oh, yes, that  was  a  beautiful  thought." 

"  Lady  Mary  once  confessed  to  me  that  she  would 
so  love  to  be  laid  there.  But  of  course  the  Boyles  have 
a  vault  at  Roskill,  and  she  considers  it  her  duty  to  lie 
with  her  husband.  But  she  always  seems  to  me  to  be 
more  of  a  Bastow." 

"  But  surely  she  loved  her  husband,  Joan  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  loved  him,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  Sir 
Martin  was  devoted  to  her ;  but  they  did  not  marry  very 
young.  Anyhow  " — and  here  Joan's  work  dropped  from 
her  fingers — "  I  am  glad  to  think  that  they  are  bringing 
Lord  Josselyn  to  Kilverton,  and  that  the  Angel  of  the 
Resurrection  will  be  guarding  him  there.  Forgive  me, 
Silence,  but  I  really  cannot  work  any  more.  I  think 
I  will  walk  over  to  Nesselwood  and  ask  after  old  Mrs. 
Atler;  I  shall  just  have  time  to  go  there  and  back  before 
dinner."  Silence  made  no  objection,  and  a  few  moments 
later  her  husband  came  into  the  room. 

"  Where  is  Joan,  love?  I  was  just  going  to  ask  her 
to  have  a  stroll  with  me." 

"  Oh.  I  am  so  sorry,  Heath,  but  she  has  just  started 
off  for  Nesselwood.  She  was  too  restless  to  work.  Lord 
Josselvn's  death  seems  to  have  upset  her  a  good  deal, 
though  she  once  told  me  that  she  never  cared  for  him." 


The  Coming  of  Azrael  199 

"No,  she  has  said  the  same  to  me  more  than  once; 
in  fact,  I  believe  she  rather  disliked  him  than  otherwise. 
But  I  am  afraid  she  is  thinking  of  Captain  Bastow.  Of 
course  this  clinches  the  business."  Then  Silence  looked 
up  from  her  delicate  smocking.  There  was  rather  an 
indignant  light  in  her  grey  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Heath,  what  a  stupid  world  it  is !  " 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  in  an  amused  tone. 

"  Why  should  not  people  marry  as  they  like  and  be 
happy?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  Joan,  your  sister, 
is  not  good  enough  for  any  Bastow?  Why  are  they  all 
setting  themselves  up  against  it  and  saying  it  is  impos- 
sible.    How  can  it  be  impossible  if  they  love  each  other?  " 

"  My  dear  love !  "  but  it  was  evident  that  Canon  Leigh 
was  quite  pleased  by  his  wife's  unusual  vehemence. 

"  I  am  afraid  Captain  Bastow  will  find  himself  heavily 
handicapped,"  he  went  on.  "  Lady  Mary  told  me  the  last 
time  I  was  at  Morningside  th  t  Lord  Josselyn's  extrava- 
gance had  so  impoverished  the  estate  that  it  would  be 
absolutely  necessary  for  Captain  Bastow  to  marry  a  girl 
with  a  fortune.  And  then  sh-2  spoke  of  Lady  Cicely 
O'Brien." 

"  But  if  he  does  not  care  for  her!  Oh,  Heath,  don't 
you  see  how  wrong  and  wicked  it  all  is?  And  if  he  and 
Joan  are  really  in  love !  " 

"  But  are  we  sure  of  that  ?  Of  course  I  have  my  grave 
doubts  on  the  subject.  Joan  is  making  a  brave  effort, 
but  I  see  that  she  is  unhappy.  Still,  many  a  girl  has 
been  disappointed  in  her  first  love  and  has  in  time  got 
over  it." 

"  I  cannot  agree  with  you,"  returned  Silence  quietly. 
"  And  in  my  opinion  Joan  has  been  hardly  used.  She 
has  been  thrown  almost  daily  into  Captain  Bastow's  com- 
pany ;  he  has  made  love,  and  though  she  has  very  prop- 
erly refused  to  listen  to  him,  I  hear  her  heart  is  no  longer 
in  her  own  keeping.  With  all  her  faults,  Joan  has 
very  deep  affections,  and  she  is  not  one  to  change.  If 
Lady  Mary  and  the  Merritons  had  not  been  culpably 


200  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

blind,  tilings  would  never  have  come  to  this  pass."  And 
there  was  quite  a  severe  look  on  the  Madonna  face  as 
Silence  delivered  herself  of  this  lengthy  sentence.  But 
Heath  only  smiled  at  her. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right,  love,"  he  said,  "  and  that 
worldly  ways  are  not  always  the  wisest  and  happiest 
ways.     But,  after  all,  the  matter  is  not  in  our  hands." 

"  No,  that  is  true,"  she  returned  gravely.  "  But  ever 
since  Joan  has  been  with  us  I  have  been  thinking  over 
things  ;  and  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that,  if  only  the 
Merritons  could  be  brought  to  see  it,  such  a  marriage 
ought  not  to  be  an  impossibility.  There,  it  is  time  to 
dress  for  dinner,  so  we  must  not  talk  any  more." 

But  when  Silence  had  left  the  room,  Canon  Leigh  sat 
still  in  his  place,  looking  out  at  the  ruined  arch  and  even- 
ing sky.  Something  in  his  wife's  words  had  gone  as 
straight  as  an  arrow  to  his  conscience. 

He  knew  himself  to  be  an  ambitious  man — he  had 
never  been  indifferent  to  the  gifts  and  prizes  of  life — but 
he  hoped  his  secret  worldliness  had  been  hidden  from 
every  one  but  his  Maker.  Silence,  in  her  simplicity, 
never  guessed  it.  In  her  eyes  he  was  absolutely  perfect. 
She  gloried  in  his  successes,  not  because  she  coveted  such 
things  for  him,  but  because  she  saw  that  they  added  to 
his  happiness.  Nothing  was  too  good  for  him,  no  honour 
too  great,  thought  the  fond  wife. 

But  now  a  few  indicant  words  had  cast  a  sudden 
flashlight  which  seemed  to  illumine  his  secret  thoughts. 
"Do  yon  mean  to  tell  me  that  Joan,  your  sister,  is  not 
good  enough  for  any  Bastow?"  Why  had  he  felt  that 
proud  thrill  as  Silence  had  said  that?  If  it  had  been  pos- 
sible, would  he  not  have  gloried  in  such  a  marriage  for 
his  young  sister? 

"  Worldly  ways  are  not  always  the  wisest  and  hap- 
piest ways,"  he  had  told  her.  How  easy  to  formulate 
such  an  axiom,  and  yet  how  difficult  to  live  up  to  the 
spirit  of  it !  Could  any  one  be  more  worldly  than  he, 
an  ordained  servant  of  God !     Where  was  his  singleness 


The  Coming  of  Azrael  201 

of  aim?  Was  he  solely  intent  on  his  life's  mission — to 
win  souls,  and  bind  up  the  wounds  of  the  broken-hearted, 
to  pour  in  the  oil  of  healing?  or  was  he  secretly  set  on 
being-  recognised  in  the  diocese  as  a  powerful  and  elo- 
quent preacher,  as  an  authority  on  ecclesiastical  literature, 
whose  talents  and  research  should  win  a  just  praise? 

"  Mea  culpa,"  he  groaned,  and  there  was  a  shadow 
on  the  fine  intellectual  face.  "  Who  can  understand  his 
errors?    cleanse  Thou  me  from  secret  faults," 


XXIV 

•CHARITY  NEVER  FAILETH" 

Sweet  Shepherd,  not  one  is  so  far  away, 
But  Thy  voice  to  its  ears  must  win; 

And  there'll  be  such  joy  in  the  fold  that  day, 
When  the  last  of  Thy  flock  comes  in ! 

Helen  Marion  Burnside. 

Three  days  later  Lady  Mary  forwarded  another  letter 
from  the  Hotel  de  Montagne. 

"  I  have  very  few  particulars  to  give  you,  dearest  Aunt  Mary," 
wrote  Lady  Dorothy.  "  It  was  all  so  sudden  that  we  are  still 
quite  dazed  with  the  shock.  I  have  just  left  mother  with  father 
sitting  beside  her ;  but  as  I  feel  I  could  not  sleep,  I  am  writing 
to  you  instead.  Tired  as  I  am,  I  know  I  could  not  close  my 
eyes.     I  would  rather  tell  you  the  little  there  is  to  know. 

"That  last  evening — was  it  only  yesterday  or  a  year  ago? — it 
was  so  peaceful  and  happy.  We  were  all  in  Arthur's  room. 
He  seemed  unwilling  for  any  of  us  to  leave  him.  Father  read 
to  him  a  little  and  then  we  talked,  and  Sister  Rose  joined  us 
for  a  few  minutes.  Arthur  looked  quite  bright ;  he  seemed  look- 
ing forward  to  his  visit  to  Brantwood.  '  I  suppose  Hallett 
will  give  me  my  marching  orders  pretty  soon,'  he  said.  '  But  I 
won't  go  without  my  kind  nurse,'  looking  at  Sister  Rose  quite 
affectionately. 

"  '  I  have  heard  so  much  of  Brantwood  Abbey,  Lord  Josselyn, 
and  it  would  be  very  nice  to  see  it,'  she  answered  quietly,  for  she 
would  not  damp  him  by  telling  him  that  she  would  have  to 
go  back  to  the  Hospital.  And  then  Arthur  began  making  all 
sorts  of  plans.  He  wanted  us  to  stay  later  with  him  than  usual 
that  night,  because  he  felt  so  well.  But  Sister  Rose  would  not 
hear  of  this.  When  I  wished  Arthur  good-night,  he  made  one 
of  his  teasing  little  speeches.  '  Dollie/  he  said,  '  I  hope  you  don't 
mean  to  be  an  old  maid.  But  I  don't  suppose  they  could  spare 
you  at  home,  you  have  always  been  such  a  good  little  girl :  '  and 
he  gave  my  hand  a  loving  squeeze.  There,  I  have  blotted  the 
page,  but  you  will  understand. 

"  I  went  to  bed  in  such  good  spirits,  and  slept  more  soundly 

202 


"  Charity  Never  Faileth  "  203 

than  usual ;  and  it  seemed  to  me  the  middle  of  the  night,  though 
I  believe  it  was  only  just  before  dawn,  when  there- was  a  loud 
knock  at  my  door.  It  opened,  and  father's  voice-said,  Arthur 
is  very  ill ;  there  has  been  a  return  of  the  haemorrhage.  You 
had  better  get  up  at  once.'  And  I  threw  on  my  dressing-gown 
and  was  beside  him  before  he  had  reached  Arthur's  room. 
Mother  was  there  already. 

"  Oh,  dearest  Aunt  Mary,  shall  I  ever  forget  that  moment ! 
Dr.  Hallet  was  holding  a  sponge  to  Arthur's  mouth ;  he  was 
conscious ;  there  was  recognition  in  his  eyes,  I  am  sure  of  it. 
The  next  moment  Dr.  Hallet  bent  over  him.     .     .     . 

"  I  remember  mother  said  something.  She  thought  Arthur 
had  fainted,  and  wanted  them  to  give  him  more  air.  But  Dr. 
Hallett  shook  his  head. 

" '  My  dear  lady,'  he  said,  '  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  done 
for  your  son.'  And  then  he  signed  to  father  to  take  her  away. 
But  I  thought  we  never  should  have  persuaded  her  to  leave  the 
room.  You  see,  she  could  not  believe  that  the  poor  boy  was 
really  dead. 

' '  It  is  not  true,  Merriton — it  cannot  be  true,'  she  kept  saying 
over  and  over  again,  her  poor  hands  shaking  as  though  she 
had  ague.     It  was  so  terrible  for  father. 

1 '  Yes,  Hildegarde,  it  is  true ;  God  has  taken  our  boy,  and 
we  must  try  to  submit  to  the  Divine  Will.  We  have  still  each 
other,  and  Craig  will  be  good  to  us.'  And  then,  with  such  a 
sob — 'Am  I  not  better  to  thee  than  ten  sons?' 

"  I  saw  mother  creep  closer  to  him  when  she  heard  that  sob. 
They  were  so  engrossed  with  each  other  that  they  never  noticed 
me ;  and  I  left  them  to  comfort  each  other.  Father  came  to  me 
later  and  told  me  that  she  was  calmer  and  more  composed,  and 
that  Sister  Rose  was  with  her. 

"  Canon  Morse  had  a  little  service  in  Arthur's  room,  and 
I  think  it  did  us  all  good ;  and  he  said  such  beautiful,  helpful 
things  to  us  afterwards.  Sister  Rose  and  Miss  Morse  had  made 
the  room  so  beautiful,  and  dear  Arthur  looked  so  peaceful,  and 
years  younger.  I  think  it  nearly  broke  mother's  heart  because 
they  could  not  let  her  stay  longer ;  but  it  was  impossible- — there 
was  so  much  to  do.  We  expect  Craig  will  be  here  before  eight, 
and  we  shall  probably  leave  in  the  afternoon.  We  shall  sleep  one 
night  at  Grosvenor  Square.  Arthur  is  to  be  brought  there. 
Mother  has  implored  father  to  have  this  done,  and,  after  all, 
it  seems  the  best  arrangement.  We  shall  leave  quite  early  the 
next  morning  for  Kilverton.  Father  has  asked  Mr.  Rutherford 
to  take  the  service,  as  the  vicar  is  a  stranger  to  us.  He  begs 
that  you  will  not  think  of  undertaking  the  journey.  We  intend 
returning  straight  to   Brantwood.     There,  I  must  lie  down  now 


204  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

and  try  and  get  some  rest.    Good-night — or  rather  good-morning-, 
dear. — Your  loving  Dorothy." 

"  Of  course  I  shall  not  be  dissuaded  from  going  down  to 
Kilverton,"  wrote  Lady  Mary.  "  I  have  just  written  to  Mrs. 
Baddeley  and  asked  her  to  have  a  room  ready  for  me.  And  of 
course  Dunlop  will  accompany  me.  I  shall  be  there  to  receive 
them,  and  to  see  that  everything  is  arranged  as  they  wished. 
Mrs.  Baddeley  will  do  her  best,  I  know,  but  it  will  be  far  better 
for  one  of  the  family  to  be  there.  Ah,  if  you  could  only  be 
with  me,  Joan !     I  think  I  miss  you  more  every  day,  my  dear." 

Joan  sighed  heavily  as  she  read  this.  There  was 
nothing  she  could  do  for  them,  except  write  loving  little 
notes  of  sympathv  to  Lady  Mary  and  Dorothy,  and  a 
message  of  condolence  to  the  sorrowing  parents. 

Lady  Mary's  next  letter  gave  her  an  account  of  the 
funeral. 

"  I  was  right  to  come,"  she  wrote.  "  If  you  had  only  seen 
my  brother's  look  of  relief  when  he  saw  my  face  in  the  hall ! 
He  is  looking  so  much  older,  Joan,  and  so  worn  and  thin. 
But  Lady  Merriton  is  wonderful.  She  seems  to  have  nerved 
herself  to  go  through  it  all — but  I  expect  she  will  break  down 
when  it  is  over.  Dollie  is  just  her  sweet  little  self,  thinking 
of  every  one.  They  seemed  very  much  pleased  with  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  library.  We  had  so  many  beautiful  wreaths  and 
crosses.     I  think  Cicely  O'Brien's  was  one  of  the  best. 

"  Lord  Templeton  and  Mr.  Rutherford  joined  us  at  the  station, 
and  there  were  three  or  four  of  poor  Josselyn's  friends. 

"  It  was  such  a  beautiful  day,  and  I  think  the  old  church- 
yard never  looked  more  lovely.  I  am  afraid  I  had  a  return  of 
the  old  longing,  Joan,  when  I  caught  sight  of  the  Angel  of  the 
Resurrection.  But,  after  all,  what  docs  it  matter  where  I  lay  my 
old  bones,  when  my  spirit  will  be  travelling  starwards?  We 
think  so  much  of  this  poor  corruptible  body,  which,  after  all, 
is  nothing  but  a  worn-out  garment. 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  Mr.  Rutherford  read  so  beauti- 
fully as  he  did  that  day.  When  he  came  to  that  verse,  '  O  death, 
where  is  thy  sting?'  his  voice  rang  like  the  sound  of  a  clarion, — 
the  air  seemed  vibrant  with  it.  And  so  we  left  him,  our  weak 
and  erring  one,  to  the  mercy  o-f  the  All-Merciful. 

"  Dorothy  and  I  were  talking  about  that  last  evening  when 
she  came  down  to  Morningside  to  tell  me  about  her  mother. 
Craig  would    fetch   her  in   an   hour,  she  said.     The   dear  child 


"  Charity  Never  Faileth  "  205 

looked  so  pale  and  tired,  but  she  said  it  would  rest  her  to  talk- 
to  me. 

"  '  Aunt  Mary,'  she  said,  '  I  cannot  help  feeling  happy  about 
Arthur.  I  am  sure,  from  what  Canon  Morse  told  mother,  that 
our  poor  boy  bitterly  repented  his  wrong-doings — that  he  would 
have  given  much  to  make  amends.  He  often  made  such  sad 
little  speeches  to  mother.  1  asked  Canon  Morse  if  I  were  wrong 
to  be  so  hopeful,  and  he  said,  "  Certainly  not.  It  was  the  lost 
and  wandering  sheep  for  which  the  Divine  Shepherd  sought. 
Why  should  we  not  hope,  Lady  Dorothy,  when  there  is  joy  in 
heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  as  we  trust  and  believe 
your  brother  did?"  And  then  he  took  a  little  shabby  brown 
book  out  of  his  pocket — Scrupoli's  Spiritual  Combat  I  found  it 
was  afterwards — and  read  me  the  following  passage.  I  have 
copied  it  out  for  mother  : — 

"  '  "  How  shall  our  Divine  Shepherd,  who  followed  after  His 
lost  sheep  for  three-and-thirty  years  with  loud  and  bitter  cries 
through  that  painful  and  thorny  way,  wherein  He  spilt  His 
heart's  blood  and  laid  down  His  life — how  shall  He  refuse  to 
turn  His  quickening  glance  upon  the  poor  sheep  which  now 
follows  Him  with  a  desire,  though  sometimes  faint  and  feeble, 
to  obey  Him !  If  He  ceased  not  to  search  most  diligently  for 
the  blind  and  deaf  sinner,  the  lost  piece  of  money  of  the  Gospel, 
till  He  found  him,  can  He  abandon  one  who,  like  a  lost  sheep, 
cries  and  calls  piteously  upon  his  Shepherd?"'' 

"Is  not  that  beautiful,  Joan?  You  know  I  always  share  my 
good  things  with  you.  I  am  glad  to  tell  you  that  Craig  is  a 
great  comfort  to  his  parents.  He  cycles  or  motors  over  every 
day.     But  he  looks  sad  and  careworn." 

Joan  pondered  over  this  last  sentence  a  long-  time. 

She  tried  hard  to  conceal  her  restlessness  and  to 
appear  outwardly  cheerful,  but  every  day  the  task  be- 
came more  difficult.  She  was  pining-  to  be  back  at  Morn- 
ingside.  There  was  trouble  in  her  immediate  circle,  but 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  was  shunted  and  treated 
as  an  outsider.  No  one  really  missed  her  but  Lady  Mary, 
and  she  was  too  much  absorbed  in  the  Merritons'  sorrow 
to  think  of  her  own  dulness. 

Joan  could  picture  the  daily  life.  Every  morning 
Dorothv  would  run  across  to  Morningside  to  tell  Lady 
Mary  how  her  mother  had  passed  the  night,  and  then 
in  all  probability  Lady  Mary  would  walk  over  to  the 


206  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Abbey  before  luncheon.  Very  likely  she  would  remain 
until  after  afternoon  tea,  or  even  longer,  if  Lady  Merri- 
ton  wanted  her.  Then  she  would  come  back  and  eat 
her  solitary  dinner.  But  possibly  Craig  would  look  in  on 
his  way  to  Aldershot  for  a  few  minutes'  chat.  "  They 
will  do  nothing  without  her,"  thought  Joan.  "  And  as 
for  Lord  Merriton,  the  dear  thing  will  be  fussing  round 
him  from  morning  to  night.  And  there  will  not  be  even 
the  smallest  gap  in  the  hedge  for  this  little  black  sheep." 
The  next  news  that  reached  Joan  was  that  Lady  Mer- 
riton was  ill,  and  that  the  Earl  had  telegraphed  for  a 
London  physician.  But  his  opinion  was  distinctly 
favourable.  The  nerves  had  given  way  from  the  long 
strain,  and  Sir  Philip  Deane  strongly  advised  immediate 
change  to  some  salubrious  seaside  resort. 

"  My  brother  and  Dorothy  have  gone  down  to  look  at  a 
house  at  Eastbourne  that  Lord  Templeton  has  offered  to  lend 
them  for  two  months,"  wrote  Lady  Mary,  "  and  I  will  let  you 
know  their  decision." 

And  she  actually  wrote  again  the  next  day. 

We  have  been  holding  a  family  council  in  my  brother's 
library.  He  and  Dorothy  were  delighted  with  Gilnockie.  It  is 
a  charming  house,  not  large,  but  extremely  comfortable,  and  in 
a  most  pleasant  situation.  It  is  on  the  edge  of  the  downs,  but 
some  of  the  upper  windows  command  a  view  of  the  sea  and 
Eeachy  Head.  Dorothy  says  that  they  can  just  manage  to 
squeeze  me  and  Dunlop  in ;  for  I  must  tell  you,  Joan,  that  my 
brother  refuses  to  go  without  me,  and  Lady  Merriton  was  equally 
pressing.  So,  my  dear  child,  our  Folkestone  plan  has  shrivelled 
up  into  nothingness.  But  I  know  that  you  will  understand  that, 
under  the  circumstances,  I  could  not  well  refuse. 

And  by  return  of  post  came  Joan's  impetuous  answer 
to  Morningside. 

"  Of  course  you  could  not  refuse,"  wrote  Joan  in  her  strag- 
gling girlish  hand,  which  Lady  Mary  always  thought  so  frank 
and  characteristic.     "  Do  you  think  you  need  explain  that  to  me, 


"  Charity  Never  Faileth  "  207 

and  that  I  am  not  aware  how  necessary  you  are  to  them  all, 
and  that  there  is  no  one  like  my  dear  Lady  Mary  when  one  is  in 
trouhle?  I  know  Dorothy  thinks  you  are  wonderful,  and  it  will 
be  such  a  help  and  comfort  to  her  to  have  you  under  the  same 
roof.  It  will  set  her  free  to  take  walks  and  rides  with  her 
father.     Indeed,  no  arrangement  could  be  better. 

"  You  must  not  consider  me  for  a  moment.  Besides,  Heath 
is  thinking  of  taking  a  very  nice  furnished  house  at  Revelstoke 
for  the  holidays.  It  is  a  quiet  little  place  and  quite  near — about 
an  hour  by  train.  The  house  belongs  to  some  people  Heath 
knows;  but  they  are  going  abroad,  and  they  would  be  quite 
willing  to  let  it  for  six  or  seven  weeks.  Heath  took  Silence  over 
to  see  it  the  other  afternoon,  and  she  seemed  very  pleased  with 
it.  It  is  on  the  sea-front,  and  there  is  only  a  little  strip  of  green 
between  it  and  the  beach.  We  are  to  go  about  the  3rd  of 
August.  I  think  Silence  and  the  children  will  like  it.  I  fancy 
Jess  needs  a  change ;  she  is  growing  so  fast,  and  is  so  excessively 
tiresome." 

But  Joan  was  too  truthful  to  pretend  to  any  enthusi- 
asm on  the  subject.  Lady  Mary  was  not  too  much  en- 
grossed by  her  own  people  to  notice  this  indifference,  and 
a  few  days  later  she  wrote  privately  to  Canon  Leigh  and 
begged  him  to  give  her  his  candid  opinion  of  Joan.  "  She 
is  a  very  faithful  correspondent,  and  I  hear  from  her 
regularly  three  times  a  week ;  but,  all  the  same,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  know  if  she  seems  well  and  cheerful." 

Canon  Leigh's  answer  to  this  was  fairly  satisfactory 
on  the  whole. 

"We  are  very  much  pleased  with  Joan,"  he  wrote;  "she  is 
evidently  home-sick  and  depressed,  but  she  tries  so  hard  to  hide 
it.  She  has  plenty  of  pluck  and  spirit,  and  will  not  let  herself 
be  beaten. 

"  She  is  certainly  a  little  paler  and  thinner — Silence  was 
only  saying  so  last  night — but  we  think  she  is  well.  Ail  this 
sad  business  about  Lord  Josselyn  worried  her — she  was  so  full 
of  sympathy  for  you  all. 

"  I  know  Joan  told  you  about  our  plans  for  August.  Silence 
and  I  have  taken  rather  a  fancy  to  Revelstoke.  And  it  is  just 
at  a  convenient  distance  for  me,  as  I  have  business  which  will 
oblige  me  to  take  a  day  at  St.  Breda's  now  and  then.  Nothing 
connected  with  the  Cathedral,  only  with  my  own  literary  work. 
Joan  does   not   seem   enthusiastic   about   Revelstoke ;    but    I   am 


208  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

sure  the  sea  air  will  do  her  good,  and  the  boys  will  give  her 
plenty  of  occupation.  Anyhow,  we  shall  do  our  best  to  make 
our  visit  as  pleasant  as  possible. 

"  There  is  one  thing  which  I  know  will  please  you,  as  you 
were  fully  aware  of  our  difficulty.  Joan  certainly  gets  on  better 
with  Silence,  and  is  much  less  exacting  in  her  demands.  Of 
course,  now  and  then  there  are  little  rubs  and  frictions.  As 
their  natures  are  so  dissimilar,  we  must  expect  this.  But  Joan 
has  herself  better  in  hand,  and  is  learning  to  be  a  little  tactful. 
We  try  to  make  the  child  happy,  and  you  know  my  dear  wife 
well  enough  to  be  sure  of  her  goodness  of  heart.  She  is  always 
planning  something  for  Joan's  comfort  and  pleasure. 

"  There,  I  am  summoned  to  the  Dean,  and  must  end  my 
letter,  as  it  is  just  time  for  the  afternoon  post.  Silence  sends 
her  kind  love. — Yours  Heath  Leigh." 


XXV 

"A  NUT-BROWN  MAYDE" 

Be  useful  where  thou  livest,  that  they  may 
Both  want  and  wish  thy  pleasing  presence  still. 
Kindness,  good  parts,  great  places  are  the  way 
To  compass  this.     Find  out  men's  wants  and  will, 
And  meet  them  there.    All  worldly  joys  go  less 
To  the  one  joy  of  doing  kindnesses. 

George  Herbert. 

One  morning  towards  the  end  of  June,  Joan  crossed 
the  little  green  before  St.  Breda's  Lodge  on  her  way  to 
the  Cathedral.  In  the  early  stillness  and  freshness  the 
Precincts  looked  their  best.  The  leafage  of  the  elms  and 
limes  was  still  vividly  green  and  tvnsoiled  by  dust.  Some 
rooks  were  cawing  in  the  distance,  and  the  jack-daws 
were  flying  round  the  Cathedral  towers;  two  of  Wanda's 
doves  had  fluttered  down  from  the  stable  roof  and  were 
strutting  daintily  across  the  grass ;  a  blackbird  was  trill- 
ing from  an  alder  bush  in  Kenwyn  garden. 

The  month  of  roses,  as  Joan  called  it,  had  always 
been  a  favourite  season  with  her  and  Lady  Mary,  and  she 
used  to  write  glowing  descriptions  of  the  garden  at  St. 
Breda's  Lodge. 

"  Heath  is  very  proud  of  his  garden,"  she  wrote ;  "  and  I 
am  glad  to  see  that  both  he  and  Silence  take  a  great  deal  of 
interest  in  it,  though  neither  of  them  are  experienced  gardeners. 
But  I  think  even  you,  dear  Lady  Mary,  would  find  much  to 
admire.  The  Guelder  roses  are  over,  but  the  elders  are  flower- 
ing, and  the  great  bushes  of  syringa  look  still  like  big  bridal 
bouquets.  But  the  irises  are  our  chief  pride.  We  have  quite  a 
show  in  the  kitchen  garden  and  down  one  side  of  the  croquet 
lawn,  and  there  are  more  growing  in  the  front.  They  were 
Canon  Ramsbotham's  favourite  flower.  He  was  Heath's  pred- 
ecessor, you  know.  I  remember  your  saying  once  how  many 
fine  species  flower  in  June,  and  that  the  iris  is  really  a  plant 
for  nine  months  in  the  year.  Yesterday  afternoon  Heath  and 
14  209 


210  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

I  were  admiring  the  colouring  of  the  flag  irises — some  were  pale 
clear  yellow,  others  veined  and  clouded  with  crimson  and  brown 
on  the  petals.  Then  there  are  some  grey-lavender,  and  purple 
with  white  veining,  and  others  that  can  only  be  defined  as  smoky- 
bronze.  And  I  am  sure  you  would  admire  the  wide  border  of 
London  pride  under  the  row  of  Madonna  lilies.  I  always  think 
'  those  delicate  clouds  of  faint  pink  bloom '  so  charming." 

Joan  was  doing  her  best  to  interest  herself  in  her  sur- 
roundings :  but,  as  she  told  herself  somewhat  bitterly,  it 
was  rather  like  driving  a  springless  cart  over  stones — 
one  got  more  jars  than  enjoyment. 

The  bell  was  ringing  for  service,  and  Joan  quickened 
her  loitering  pace.  As  she  seated  herself  beside  Silence, 
three  ladies  entered  the  choir ;  but,  as  they  occupied  the 
stalls  almost  immediately  behind  her,  she  had  taken  no 
notice  of  them.  When  service  was  over,  Silence  went  out 
at  once.  She  had  generally  some  business  in  the  town 
before  returning  home.  At  first  she  had  waited  for  Joan 
to  join  her,  but  she  had  long  ceased  to  expect  this. 
On  this  occasion,  however,  Joan  hurried  after  her.  But 
before  she  reached  the  steps,  some  one  touched  her  on 
the  arm,  and  as  she  turned  round  she  saw,  to  her  intense 
surprise,  that  it  was  Lady  Cicely  O'Brien. 

Joan's  start  and  exclamation  made  Lady  Cicely  smile. 

"  I  thought  you  did  not  see  me,"  she  said,  "  and  you 
were  walking  so  fast  that  I  had  almost  to  run  after  you. 
I  am  with  my  cousins,  Joan — Kathleen  and  Bertha  Mos- 
tyn.  We  motored  in  from  Peterfield.  They  are  going 
round  the  Cathedral  with  the  verger,  but  I  have  seen  it 
twice  already,  and  I  said  I  would  rather  stay  and  talk 
to  you — that  is,  if  you  are  willing  and  at  leisure?  " 

"  T  have  nothing  to  do,  and  I  shall  be  simply  de- 
lighted," returned  Joan.  "  Would  you  like  to  go  outside 
— there  is  a  seat  nearly  opposite  this  door,  and  it  is  so 
quiet  in  the  Precincts  ?  "  And  as  Lady  Cicely  assented 
to  this,  they  strolled  down  the  flagged  path. 

Lady  Cicely  chatted  on  in  her  lively  way.  She  was 
beautifully  dressed,  as  usual,  and  looked  prettier  than 


"  A  Nut-Browne  Mayde  "  211 

ever.  She  was  a  brunette,  but  the  brown  cheeks  glowed 
with  health  and  colour.  There  was  something  piquante 
about  the  small  mouth  and  little  pointed  chin ;  and  the 
Irish  blue  eyes,  with  the  long  dark  lashes,  were  certainly 
lovely.  Joan  felt  a  strange  sinking  of  heart  as  she 
glanced  at  her.  How  could  any  one  long  resist  such  a 
bewitching  young  creature  ?  " 

"  I  know  this  place  well,"  observed  Lady  Cicely,  un- 
furling her  white  sunshade,  which,  with  its  faint  pink 
lining,  made  a  charming  background  to  her  face.  Joan 
was  quite  aware  that  the  white  dress  and  hat,  with  all 
their  simplicity,  had  come  from  Paris.  Lady  Cicely 
looked  what  she  was,  the  spoilt  child  of  fortune,  to  whom 
money  was  no  object.  Youth,  beauty,  wealth — certainly 
the  fairies  had  been  lavish  of  their  good  gifts !  Could 
anything  be  lacking  to  this  richly-dowered  young 
princess? 

"  I  once  lunched  at  St.  Breda's  Lodge  with  the  Rams- 
bothams,"  she  continued.  "  Diana  took  me  all  over  the 
house,  so  you  see  I  can  picture  you  there." 

"  I  had  no  idea  of  that,  Lady  Cicely." 

"  Lady  Cicely !  "  indignantly.  "  Aren't  you  ashamed 
to  be  so  stiff'  and  ceremonious?  At  Brantwood  it  was 
always  Cicely  and  Joan.  But  if  you  wish  me  to  call  you 
Miss  Leigh !  "  putting  on  an  offended  air. 

"  No,  no.  Of  course  I  will  call  you  Cicely — I  always 
do  to  Dorothy."  Then,  at  the  mention  of  her  friend, 
Lady  Cicely's  charming  face  grew  suddenly  grave. 

"  I  heard  from  Dorothy  this  morning.  She  says  they 
will  not  go  to  Eastbourne  for  another  ten  days,  as  Lady 
Merrkon  is  not  strong  enough  for  the  journey.  You 
know,  the  doctor  wanted  her  to  go  away  at  once — in 
these  nervous  breakdowns  there  is  nothing  like  change — 
but  she  is  :  o  weak  they  are  afraid  to  move  her." 

"  Yes.  I  know ;  Lady  Mary  told  me  the  same  thing 
in  her  last  letter.  They  cannot  interest  her  in  anything. 
She  will  talk  of  nothing  but  poor  Lord  Josselyh.  She 
has  all  his  old  photos  by  her,  in  all  stages  of  infancy 


212  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

and  childhood,  and  she  recalls  his  baby  speeches.  Lady 
Mary  says  it  is  so  pitiful  to  hear  her." 

"  But  we  cannot  wonder  at  it,  Joan.  This  is  the  third 
son  she  has  lost — it  is  enough  to  break  her  down." 

"  Yes,  and  she  has  only  Craig  left."  Then,  as  Joan 
said  this,  the  blue  eyes  were  suddenly  veiled  and  a  tinge 
of  colour  came  to  Lady  Cicely's  cheek.  But  Joan  took 
no  notice.  "  I  always  forget  that  Craig  is  Lord  Josselyn 
now,  but  one  will  have  to  get  used  to  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  it  sounds  strange."  But 
Lady  Cicely's  voice  had  lost  its  gay  note ;  she  looked  pen- 
sive, and  even  a  little  sad.  "  I  hear  Lady  Mary  means  to 
accompany  them  to  Gilnockie.  Dorothy  hopes  she  will 
remain  with  them  until  they  go  back  to  the  Abbey." 

"  I  am  sure  she  fully  intends  to  do  that." 

"  Dorothy  wants  me  to  come  to  them  before  they 
leave  Kilnockie,"  went  on  Lady  Cicely.  "  she  is  kind 
enough  to  say  that  they  do  not  regard  me  as  a  visitor, 
and  that  she  thinks  in  a  few  weeks'  time  her  mother  will 
be  glad  to  have  me." 

"You  will  go,  of  course?"  but  Joan's  voice  was  a 
little  abrupt. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  returned  Lady  Cicely  in  a  hesitating 
tone.  "  I  don't  like  to  refuse  Dorothy,  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  when  people  are  in  trouble  they  only  want  their 
own  belongings.     After  all,  I  am  an  outsider." 

"  Dorothy  does  not  seem  to  think  so  " — Joan  had  got 
her  voice  under  control  again.  "  I  think  it  is  a  very  good 
test  of  friendship  if  people  in  adversity  are  anxious  for 
one's  society.  If  they  really  want  to  have  you,  there  is 
no  reason  for  you  to  refuse." 

"  Of  course  I  should  love  to  go ;  I  am  so  fond  of 
them  all,  and  Lady  Mary  is  a  special  favourite  of  mine. 
But  I  cannot  quite  make  up  my  mind,  and  as  Dorothy 
has  fixed  no  special  time,  there  is  no  need  to  decide  now." 
As  Lady  Cicely  spoke,  there  was  a  worried  line  across 
her  forehead  which  made  her  look  years  older;  but  Joan 
did  not  see  this,  she  was  looking  across  the  sunny  green, 
aixl  her  lips  were  pressed  together. 


"A  Nut-Browne  Mayde  "  213 

"  Dorothy  has  fixed  no  time — she  is  waiting  until 
Craig  can  join  them.  Cicely  is  aware  of  that,  and  she 
is  afraid  to  go,  for  fear  of  further  disappointment.  Poor 
girl,  I  believe  she  is  beginning  to  care  for  him ;  but  they 
arc  sacrificing  her  without  any  consideration  for  the  con- 
sequences ;  "  and  a  softer  expression  came  to  Joan's  face. 

"  No.  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  decide  now,"  she 
said  quite  naturally;  "but  it  would  be  hardly  kind  to 
Dorothy  to  refuse."  And  then  she  changed  the  subject 
by  telling  her  companion  about  the  house  at  Revelstoke ; 
and  when  she  had  finished,  Lady  Cicely  detailed  her 
autumn  plans.  She  was  going  for  a  round  of  visits  in 
Derbyshire,  Shropshire,  and  Scotland. 

"  I  do  not  expect  to  be  back  in  town  until  the  middle 
of  December,"  she  finished. 

"  What  a  bird  of  passage  you  are,  Cicely !  " 

:'  Yes,  am  I  not — a  regular  wandering  Jewess !  "  with 
a  little  laugh.  "  Marjorie  often  calls  me  the  hare  w  ith 
many  friends.  But,  do  you  know,  I  am  getting  just  a 
little  tired  of  it.  Father  sometimes  talks  of  settling  down 
at  Kildare — that  is  near  Ki Harney,  you  know.  He  says 
he  is  ashamed  of  being  an  absentee  landlord  any  more, 
and  that  his  tenants  need  him.  Do  you  know,  Joan,  I 
rather  like  the  idea." 

"  Your  cousin  Marjorie  once  told  me  that  she  felt 
buried  alive  at  Kildare ;  that  one  saw  nothing  but  bare- 
footed gossoons  from  morning  to  night ;  and  that,  in  spite 
of  the  beauty  of  the  place,  she  found  life  there  deadly  dull 
and  triste." 

"  Oh,  Marjorie  always  exaggerates.  There  are  lots  of 
nice  people  round  —  decent  farmers  and  bailiffs  in  good 
homespun  stockings.  I  expect  she  meant  the  children 
living  in  the  cottages  at  Eileen's  Corner — they  are  rather 
a  ragged  lot.  But  I  was  horn  at  Kildare,  and  I  love  every 
stone  of  our  old  house.  Tt  is  only  mother  who  sets  her 
face  against  the  place.  Will  you  come  and  see  me  there 
some  time,  Joan?"  Then,  as  Joan  smiled  and  nodded — 
"  Very  well  then,  I  shall  hold  you  to  your  promise.     I 


214  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

shall  make  Dorothy  bring  you,  and  you  shall  see  our  beau- 
tiful lake,  and  make  acquaintance  with  a  jaunting-car. 
Now,"  consulting  the  little  watch  on  her  wrist,  "  have  you 
any  idea  how  late  it  is  ?  Those  girls  will  be  looking  for 
us,  and  our  motor  will  be  waiting."  And  then  they  went 
back  to  the  Cathedral,  where  they  found  the  Mostyn  girls, 
limp  with  fatigue,  resting  themselves  after  their  labours. 
Joan  was  introduced  to  them,  and  then  they  all  walked 
down  to  the  little  square,  where  they  found  a  very  smart 
motor  with  two  chauffeurs. 

"  Good-bye,  Joan,"  said  Lady  Cicely,  with  a  warm 
kiss.  "  It  has  been  such  a  pleasure  to  see  you.  Au 
revoir,  via  chore " — and  she  gave  a  gay  little  wave  of 
her  hand. 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  hair  like  Miss  Leigh's," 
observed  Kathleen  Mostyn ;  "  it  is  very  beautiful.  But  I 
thought  you  said  that  she  was  pretty?" 

"  Oh,  no,  I  never  said  that,  Kitty ;  but  when  you  come 
to  know  her  you  will  think  Joan  charming."  And  then 
Lady  Cicely  tied  her  gauze  veil  over  her  Paris  hat  and 
settled  herself  comfortably. 

"  Did  you  notice  that  splendid  motor  standing  before 
Allsop's?  "  asked  her  brother,  as  Joan  joined  them  at  the 
luncheon-table.  "  I  have  an  idea  that  it  belongs  to  those 
three  ladies  who  were  sitting  behind  you  and  Silence. 
One  of  them  was  an  uncommonly  pretty  girl.  I  passed 
her  on  my  way  to  the  vestry.  She  is  a  stranger,  of 
course,  and  yet  I  seemed  to  know  her  face." 

"T  once  showed  you  her  photograph,"  returned  Joan. 
"  That  was  Lady  Cicely  O'Brien,  and  the  motor  belongs 
to  her  friends,  the  Mostyns  of  Peterfield." 

"  Oh,  T  have  heard  of  them.  Peterfield  Hall  is  quite 
palatial.     So  that  was  Lady  Cicely,  whom  Captain   Bas- 

tow ?  "  but  here  Canon  Leigh  pulled  himself  up  rather 

awkwardly. 

"  You  must  call  him  Lord  Josselyn  now,"  returned 
Joan  calmly.  "Yes,  that  is  the  girl  the  Merritons  want 
to  have  for  their  daughter-in-law.     She  is  very  pretty. 


"  A  Nut-Browne  Mayde  "  215 

is  she  not,  Heath?"  But  her  brother  was  too  much 
vexed  with  himself  to  do  more  than  mutter  an  assent. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  put  my  foot  in  it,"  he  said  to 
his  wife  afterwards,  "  but  Joan  never  turned  a  hair.  I 
never  saw  such  a  plucky  girl.  '  You  must  call  him  Lord 
Josselyn  now  ' — just  as  coolly  and  quietly  as  possible. 
Well,"  with  a  sigh,  "  I  can  only  say  that  Lady  Cicely  is 
a  formidable  rival.  She  is  the  prettiest  little  nut-browne 
mayde  I  have  seen  for  a  long  time." 

"  I  thought  Joan  was  rather  nice  about  it  all,"  re- 
turned Silence ;  "  but  then  she  really  likes  Lady  Cicely. 
I  do  wish  this  business  could  be  settled  one  way  or  an- 
other, Heath;  for,  with  all  her  courage,  Joan  is  looking 
terribly  thin.  Mrs.  Ramsay  was  only  saying  so  yester- 
day. I  shall  be  glad  when  August  comes  and  we  can  get 
her  to  Revelstoke." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  am  afraid  she  must  just  dree  her 
weird,"  observed  her  husband,  "  for  we  cannot  expect 
things  to  settle  themselves  yet.  It  is  hardly  a  time  for 
marrying  and  giving  in  marriage,  when  they  have  only 
just  buried  that  poor  fellow."  And  then  Canon  Leigh 
went  off  to  his  study. 

Joan  would  hardly  have  endorsed  her  brother's  words. 
She  felt  anything  but  plucky  as  she  sauntered  aimlessly 
up  and  down  the  croquet  lawn.  Her  talk  with  Lady 
Cicely  had  unsettled  her,  and  brought  back  the  old  un- 
bearable pain,  and  she  could  not  settle  to  any  employment. 
It  was  rather  a  relief  when  she  saw  Richard  Trafford 
w7ith  his  familiar  coming  towards  her. 

"  I  am  come  on  an  embassage,  Miss  Leigh,"  he  said 
persuasively.  "  My  very  much  married  maiden  aunt  is 
likely  to  be  a  grass  widow  for  some  hours,  and  it  will 
be  a  gracious  and  neighbourly  act  on  your  part  if  you 
will  have  tea  with  her  and  enliven  her  loneliness." 

"  Of  course  I  will  come ;  I  always  enjoy  having  tea 
at  Kenwvn.  I  suppose  you  and  Canon  Ramsay  are  going 
out?" 

"  We  are,"  replied  Dick  gravely.     "  We  are  going  to 


216  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Revelstoke,  and  my  venerable  uncle  at  the  eleventh  hour 
decided  to  accompany  us.  I  was  just  remarking  at 
luncheon  that  Dagon  and  I  were  pining  for  a  whiff  of 
sea  air,  and  my  recently  connected  relation  seemed  to 
applaud  the  idea.  We  are  to  dine  at  that  nice  little  hotel 
and  come  back  by  starlight,  and  the  watchman  will  admit 
us  into  the  Precincts  with  a  look  of  grieved  surprise." 
"  You  might  have  asked  Mrs.  Ramsay  to  go  too." 

"  We  did,  Miss  Leigh — yea  verily,  we  did.  For  when 
have  I  ever  neglected  my  Aunt  Felicia?  But  she  said 
she  had  been  giddy  gadding — these  were  her  words — 
every  day  for  a  week,  and  that  she  was  tired  and  would 
rather  stay  at  home.  Now  I  must  make  tracks  for  the 
station  or  I  shall  be  late.  Au  revoir."  But  there  was 
a  kind  expression  on  Dick's  handsome  face  as  he  looked 
at  the  girl,  for  his  keen  eyes  had  noticed  her  depression. 

Joan  was  always  willing  to  go  to  Kenwyn — the  restful 
atmosphere  soothed  her.  She  had  become  quite  attached 
to  Mrs.  Ramsay,  who  now  called  her  by  her  Christian 
name  and  treated  her  with  the  utmost  friendliness. 

"  I  wonder  why  you  are  looking  at  me  so  hard, 
Joan,"  observed  Mrs.  Ramsay,  smiling,  as  they  sat  facing 
each  other  at  the  cosy  tea-table.  Then  Joan  flushed 
slightly. 

"  Was  I  staring?  Silence  says  that  is  one  of  my  bad 
habits.  But  I  did  not  mean  to  be  rude.  I  think  I  like 
looking  at  you  because  you  seem  so  happy  and  peaceful, 
and — and  I  cannot  help  envying  you,"  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  girlish  frankness. 

"  I  was  not  always  happy,"  returned  Felicia,  and 
there  was  a  thoughtful  look  in  her  eyes.  "  When  I  was 
your  age,  Joan,  and  indeed  for  many  years  afterwards, 
life  seemed  very  dreary  and  difficult.  I  had  lost  what  I 
most  prized,  and  I  thought  I  should  never  find  it  again. 

But  if  one  waits  long  enough And  then  under  her 

breath — "  The  good  wine  of  life   is   sometimes  poured 
out  late." 

"  I   know  what  you   mean,"   returned  Joan  eagerly. 


"A  Nut-Browne  Mayde  "  217 

"  But  when  one  is  young  and  strong  and  full  of  life,  hap- 
piness seems  one's  right.  It  does  not  seem  natural  to 
suffer.  I  suppose  I  am  self-willed  and  rebellious,  but  I 
do  so  want  things  to  go  smoothly."  And  then  Joan 
broke  off  with  an  embarrassed  little  laugh;  for,  much  as 
she  was  attracted  to  this  sweet  woman,  it  would  be 
hardly  possible  to  take  her  into  confidence.  "  I  am  in  a 
naughty,  discontented  mood,  Mrs.  Ramsay,  and  you  must 
just  scold  me." 

"  My  dear,  I  should  never  do  that.  But  I  should  like 
to  help  you,  because  I  see  things  are  somewhat  wrong 
with  you.  No,"  as  Joan  winced  at  this,  "  you  need  tell 
me  nothing;  perhaps  I  understand  more  than  you  think. 
Shall  I  talk  to  you  a  little  about  my  old  life  in  Regent's 
Park  and  the  way  my  erratic  nephew  treated  me?  I 
think  it  will  amuse  you.  Dick  was  always  such  a  dear, 
whimsical  fellow,  but  with  such  a  good  heart."  And 
Felicia  talked  on  in  her  gentle  way,  and  Joan  was  so  in- 
terested that  the  dressing-bell  quite  startled  them. 

Felicia  refused  to  part  with  Joan,  and  a  message  was 
sent  across  to  St.  Breda's  Lodge.  After  dinner  they  sat 
in  the  garden  until  the  dews  drove  them  indoors.  Joan 
had  not  been  solicited  for  her  confidence — indeed,  she  ha  1 
scarcely  spoken  of  herself  the  whole  evening — but  Felicii 
was  glad  to  see  that  the  girl's  face  had  lost  its  strained, 
tired  expression. 

"  You  have  done  me  good,"  observed  Joan  gratefully, 
when  at  last  she  wished  her  hostess  good-night.  And 
she  spoke  the  truth.  But  Felicia  sighed  a  little  as  she 
closed  the  door.  How  well  she  understood  it  all — that 
passionate  revoH  of  youth.  "  When  one  is  young  and 
strong  and  full  of  life,  happiness  seems  one's  right," 
Joan  had  said.  And  how  true  this  was!  "  Poor  child! 
but  she  has  not  gone  through  my  experience,"  she 
thought.  "  T  used  to  wonder  how  I  lived  through  that 
da>  when  T  took  up  the  paper  and  read  the  announce- 
ment of  Alick's  marriage.  And  now  I  am  his  wife." 
And  the  happy  look  on  Felicia's  face  was  good  to  see. 


XXVI 

"SHE  IS  VERY  MUCH  CHANGED" 

Let  us  no  more  contend,  nor  blame 

Each  other,  blam'd  enough  elsewhere,  but  arrive 

In  offices  of  love,  how  we  may  lighten 

Each  other's  burden  in  our  hour  of  woe. 

Milton. 

Who  means  to  help  must  still  support  the  load. 

Browning. 

About  the  middle  of  July  the  Merritons  were  com- 
fortably settled  at  Gilnockie.  The  invalid  had  borne 
the  journey  better  than  they  expected,  and  there  was 
some  improvement  in  her  condition.  But  Joan  noticed 
that  Lady  Mary  did  not  write  with  her  customary  cheer- 
fulness, neither  did  she  enter  into  any  full  particulars 
of  their  daily  life.  The  weather  was  very  fine,  she  wrote 
— unusually  so  for  July.  They  had  not  had  a  wet  day. 
But  her  brother  had  been  too  busy  to  ride  much  with 
Dorothy.  He  was  a  great  deal  harassed  with  some  dis- 
agreeable business  connected  with  poor  Josselyn,  which 
they  were  very  anxious  to  keep  from  Lady  Merriton,  as 
she  was  not  in  a  state  for  more  worry.  Craig  came  over 
wdienever  he  could  get  leave  and  tried  to  help  his  father, 
and  his  mother  generally  seemed  more  like  herself  when 
he  was  in  the  house. 

Joan  always  felt  vaguely  uneasy  after  one  of  these  let- 
ters ;  but  she  had  no  idea  of  the  trying  time  Lady  Mary 
was  having  at  Gilnockie.  It  was  sad  to  see  the  Earl 
with  his  broad  shoulders  bowed  down  by  care  and  griev- 
ous anxiety.  "  This  will  make  an  old  man  of  me,  Mary," 
be  would  say  to  her  sometimes  of  an  evening,  when  she 
went  into  the  little  room  appropriated  to  his  use  to  bid 
him  good-night.  And  he  would  look  up  at  her  with 
tired  eyes  and  puckered  forehead. 

218 


"  She  is  Very  Much  Changed  "        219 

"  You  must  pull  yourself  tog-ether,  George,"  she 
would  say,  laying  her  soft  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Think 
how  we  all  depend  on  you.  Hildegarde  was  only  saying 
this  afternoon  what  a  comfort  you  had  been  to  her 
through  the  trouble.  She  leans  on  you  so  entirely." 
But  Lord  Merriton  only  shook  his  head. 

"  She  is  very  much  changed.  Sometimes,"  in  rather 
a  husky  tone,  "  I  am  afraid  that  she  will  never  be  quite 
the  same  again.  Hildegarde  has  more  spirit  than 
strength." 

"  Oh,  we  must  give  her  time,"  returned  Lady  Mary 
with  forced  cheerfulness.  But  it  was  evident  that  her 
brother's  attention  was  wandering  to  the  papers  that 
lay  before  him. 

"  We  shall  have  to  sell  that  piece  of  land,  Mary. 
Lathom  says  it  is  the  best  thing  to  do  " — Lathom  and 
Leadbeater  were  the  family  lawyers,  who  had  advised 
generations  of  Merritons — "  and  as  Craig  is  willing,  we 
shall  put  it  up  for  sale  at  once.  I  don't  deny  that  it  is 
like  selling  my  own  flesh  and  blood.  But  if  I  am  to  sleep 
in  my  bed  at  night,  I  must  put  things  straight.  When 
she  is  a  little  better  I  am  going  to  talk  to  Hildegarde 
about  letting  the  Grosvenor  Square  house  to  that  Ameri- 
can millionaire  who  wants  it  for  three  years.  Lathom  is 
very  urgent  with  me  about  that.  He  says  that  we  can- 
not afford  for  the  present  to  keep  up  two  such  large  estab- 
lishments— that  we  had  better  lie  low  until  we  have  recov- 
ered ourselves  a  bit." 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  Mr.  Lathom  is  right.  George, 
and  that  it  would  be  well  to  follow  his  advice.  I  am 
afraid  I  must  not  talk  any  longer  now,  as  Hildegarde 
asked  me  to  come  to  her." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  we  should  all  do  without  you, 
Mary."  he  said  affectionately.  "  I  am  afraid  you  are 
not  having  a  particularly  cheerful  time  just  now."  But 
Lady  Mary  only  smiled  and  let  this  pass. 

But  if  her  heart  ached  for  her  brother's  anxieties,  it 
was  full  of  pity  for  the  bereaved  mother.     The  Earl  had 


220  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

not  exaggerated  when  he  spoke  of  her  changed  appear- 
ance. It  was  sad  to  see  how  worn  and  shrunken  the 
comely,  well-preserve  1  woman  looked.  She  had  lost  the 
old  stateliness  of  bearing  which,  in  spite  of  the  shabbiest 
dress,  made  her  appear  the  great  lady.  Her  movements 
were  restless  and  uncertain,  and  she  harped  incessantly 
on  old  grievances  in  a  way  that  got  on  her  listeners' 
nerves. 

"  I  cannot  understand  mother,"  observed  Dorothy  one 
night,  when  she  had  followed  her  aunt  into  her  bed- 
room under  pretext  of  helping  her,  but  in  reality  to  get 
a  little  comfort.  "  How  tired  you  look,  Aunt  Mary ! 
It  has  been  such  a  trying  day,  and  you  have  borne  the 
brunt  of  it,  while  Craig  and  I  were  tramping  over  the 
downs.     And  I  know  mother  nearly  talked  you  to  death." 

"  Nearly,  but  not  quite,"  returned  Lady  Mary  with 
a  patient  smile.  "  You  must  not  worry  about  me,  Dollie. 
my  dear." 

"  Mother  never  used  to  be  so  inconsiderate,"  went 
on  the  girl ;  "  she  always  noticed  directly  when  people 
were  tired.  But  she  is  not  a  bit  like  her  oil  self.  At 
the  Hotel  de  Montagne  she  was  so  beautifully  calm  and 
quiet ;  she  never  gave  a  moment's  trouble,  and  Sister 
Rose  could  not  say  enough  in  her  praise.  She  was  such 
an  example  to  us  all.  And  now  she  is  so  fractious  and 
complaining.  She  is  always  wanting  Craig  to  come,  and 
yet  she  cannot  help  worrying  him  when  he  is  here." 

"  Oh,  I  think  you  are  wrong  there  my  dear.  I  told 
Joan  in  one  of  my  letters  that  your  mother  was  certainly 
more  like  herself  when  Craig  was  in  the  house.  The 
fact  is,  your  mother  has  had  a  severe  shock  and  is  not 
in  her  normal  condition.  It  is  not  easy  to  diagnose 
nerves.  She  is  somehow  unbalanced  and  has  lost  the  true 
proportion  of  things.  Little  things  appear  great  and 
she  is  not  strong  enough  to  control  her  irritability.  She 
was  very  much  hurt  when  Crai'jf  went  out  of  the  room 
so  abruptly  this  morning." 

"  Oh,  I  can  explain  that,"  returned  Dorothy  eagerly. 


"  She  is  Very  Much  Changed  "        221 

"  He  told  me  himself  that  he  only  did  it  to  prevent  an 
awkward  discussion.  Mother  was  saying  something 
about  having  Cicely  O'Brien  down  for  a  few  days  as  she 
was  so  cheerful  and  would  do  us  good.  But  he  was  so 
afraid  of  what  she  might  say  next  that  he  fairly  fled. 
He  seemed  to  think  it  so  odd  that  she  should  care  to 
have  a  lively  girl  like  Cicely  staying  at  Gilnockie  just 
now." 

Perhaps  Lady  Mary  thought  it  odd  too,  though  she 
did  not  admit  it  to  Dorothy.  But  when  Lady  Merriton 
recurred  to  the  subject  the  very  next  day,  she  suggested 
mildly  that  it  was  rather  soon  to  have  visitors. 

"  I  think  we  are  more  comfortable  by  ourselves,"  she 
finished  frankly.  But  Lady  Merriton  only  stared  at  her 
in  surprise. 

"  Too  soon !  "  she  said  rather  excitedly.  "  My  dear 
Mary,  is  there  any  way  of  measuring  time  in  trouble? 
A  day  is  like  a  week,  and  a  week  a  month.  Why,  it 
seems  at  least  a  year  ago  since  my  boy  last  looked  at 
me."  And  here  she  began  to  sob.  "  It  was  cruel  of  you 
to  remind  me  of  my  sorrow — not  that  I  forget  it  one 
single  waking  moment — but  I  have  still  two  children 
living,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  a  selfish  mother  because 
my  heart  is  broken." 

"  My  dear  Hildegarde,  you  must  not  mistake  me, 
or  think  I  want  to  thwart  your  wishes ;  when  I  said  it 
was  rather  soon  for  visitors,  I  was  speaking  conven- 
tionally." 

"  We  do  not  look  upon  Cicely  O'Brien  as  a  visitor 
or  an  outsider,"  returned  Lady  Merriton  peevishly. 
"  Dorothy  is  extremely  fond  of  her  and  so  am  I.  She 
is  young,  but  so  delightfully  sympathetic.  It  would 
be  good  for  Dorothy.     This  is  such  a  dull  household." 

"  Then  have  her  by  all  means,  dear." 

"  I  am  afraid  to  have  her,"  returned  Lady  Merriton 
gloomily,  "  for  Craig  is  so  extraordinary,  and  one  can 
never  be  sure  how  he  will  behave.  He  was  barely  civil 
to  her  when  she  was  staying  at  the  Abbey." 


222  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Lady  Mary  was  silent. 

"  Whv  don't  you  say  something?"  continued  the 
invalid  fretfully,  her  face  and  hands  working  with  ner- 
vousness. "  You  are  generally  ready  with  your  advice. 
You  are  not  kind  to  me  this  morning,  and  yet  you  can 
see  how  low  and  worried  I  am.  Craig  little  thought 
how  he  jarred  my  nerves  when  he  went  out  of  the  room 
in  that  rude  way  and  slammed  the  door." 

"  Oh,  not  slammed  the  door,  my  dear  Hildegarde ; 
Craig  is  far  too  gentlemanly  to  do  such  a  thing.  He 
only  shut  it  firmly,  because  there  is  something  defective 
with  the  lock  and  the  windows  were  open." 

But  this  explanation,  which  was  perfectly  true,  did 
not  satisfy  Lady  Merriton.  She  had  worked  herself 
up  to  the  belief  that  Craig  was  in  a  temper.  Truly,  the 
poor  lady  was  not  in  a  normal  condition. 

That  evening  there  was  another  consultation  in  Lady 
Mary's  bedroom,  which  ended  by  her  saying  in  an  un- 
usually decided  tone — "  I  think,  after  all.  that  it  will  be 
best  for  you  to  write  to  Cicely  without  any  further  delay 
and  ask  her  to  come  for  a  fortnight.  It  will  please  your 
mother."  And  as  Dorothy  seemed  willing  to  follow 
this  advice,  the  note  was  soon  written.  And  that  day  the 
home  atmosphere  seemed  a  little  more  peaceful. 

Lady  Mary  told  herself  that  she  had  done  the  right 
thing.  It  was  therefore  rather  a  disappointment  when 
Dorothy  came  to  her  with  a  long  face,  with  an  opened 
letter  in  her  hand. 

"  Oh,  dear,  what  a  world  this  is,  Aunt  Mary !  After 
all.  Cicely  cannot  come.  She  says  there  is  nothing  she 
would  love  more  than  to  come  to  Gilnockie  and  cheer 
us  up,  but  that  Amabel  has  had  a  motor  accident  and 
broken  a  small  bone  in  her  ankle,  and  as  Lord  Cecil 
is  detained  with  business  at  Vienna,  she  cannot  possibly 
leave  her." 

Lady  Amabel  was  Lady  Cicely's  only  sister,  and  they 
were  co-heiresses  to  the  O'Brien  property.  Lady  Ama- 
bel had  been  considered  a  beauty,  and  had  become  en- 


"  She  is  Very  Much  Changed  "        223 

gaged  in  her  first  season  to  the  youngest  son  of  the  Duke 
of  Rephingham. 

"  Cicely  says  she  was  ready  to  cry  with  disappoint- 
ment when  she  read  my  note,"  continued  Dorothy ;  "  but 
there,  you  had  better  read  her  letter — it  is  so  nice  and 
sympathetic — while  I  go  and  break  the  news  to  mother." 

But  Lady  Merriton,  who  had  had  a  better  night  than 
usual,  took  it  more  calmly  than  they  expected.  "  Of 
course  she  could  not  leave  Amabel,"  she  said  in  a  voice 
almost  of  rebuke :  "  I  should  be  the  very  last  person  to 
ask  her  to  neglect  her  duty."  Nevertheless,  she  seemed 
a  little  depressed  the  remainder  of  the  day. 

But  by  and  by  a  new  difficulty  put  the  thought  of 
Lady  Cicely  out  of  her  head. 

One  afternoon  when  Lord  Merriton  came  into  the 
drawing-room  he  found  his  wife  in  a  state  of  nervous 
agitation,  which  Lady  Mary  was  vainly  trying  to  soothe. 

"  Hildegarde  is  a  little  upset,"  she  said  quietly.  "  No, 
there  is  nothing  the  matter,  George,"  as  the  Earl  looked 
uneasy.  "  We  had  had  a  visitor,  Mrs.  Leith  Williams, 
and  her  talk  has  tired  her." 

"  Why  do  you  not  tell  your  brother  the  truth,  Mary?  " 
returned  her  sister-in-law  excitedly.  "  How  can  I  help 
being  upset  when  that  woman  told  me  in  the  most  abrupt, 
unfeeling  way  that  Craig's  battery  is  to  leave  for  India 
the  first  week  in  October!  Merriton,  he  is  coming  this 
evening;  you  and  Mary  must  talk  to  him.  There  is  only 
one  thing  to  be  done — he  must  retire  at  once.  His 
colonel,  every  one  will  understand  that  we  cannot  lose 

our  onlv  son,  our "     Here  the  unhappy  mother  fell 

back  upon  her  pillow  with  sobs  that  wrung  her  husband's 
heart. 

"  Hildegarde.  my  love,  you  are  making  yourself  ill ! 
Of  course  we  will  speak  to  Craig.  It  shall  be  arranged. 
I  have  had  too  much  business  even  to  think  of  the  mat- 
ter.    It  shall  be  put  before  him  this  evening." 

But  it  was  some  time  before  Lady  Merriton  could  be 
calmed. 


224  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  You  had  better  leave  her  to  me,  George,"  observed 
Lady  Mary  presently.  "  Dorothy  is  waiting  for  you  all 
this  time  to  go  out  with  her." 

Then  the  Earl  reluctantly  withdrew,  while  his  sister 
sat  quietly  beside  the  invalid,  fanning  her  and  saying 
a  comforting  word  from  time  to  time. 

Once  a  hot.  shaking  hand  was  laid  on  hers.  "  Mary, 
how  good  you  are  to  me,  and  I  am  such  a  trial  to  you 
all,  and  yet  you  never  lose  patience  with  me." 

"  Because  I  am  so  sorry  for  you,  my  poor  dear. 
"  Now  you  must  not  talk.  I  am  going  to  read  you  the 
evening  Psalms,  and  then  you  must  try  to  sleep." 

Lord  Merriton  was  so  unusually  silent  during  dinner 
that  evening  that  Craig  watched  him  a  little  uneasily. 
Was  it  his  fancy  that  his  father  looked  older,  and  that 
he  was  visibly  loosing  flesh  ?  "  That  last  bit  of  business 
has  been  too  much  for  him,"  thought  the  young  man. 
Then,  as  he  rose  to  open  the  door  for  Lady  Mary  and 
Dorothy,  the  former  whispered,  "  Your  father  wants  to 
speak  to  you  about  something,  Craig,  so  we  shall  not 
expect  you  in  the  drawing-room  just  yet."  And  Craig 
nodded  and  went  back  to  his  seat. 

"  We  shall  neither  of  us  take  any  more  wine,"  ob- 
served Lord  Merriton,  "  so  I  may  as  well  ring  for  the 
coffee  and  then  we  shall  not  be  disturbed.  I  have  some- 
thing rather  important  to  discuss  with  you  this  evening." 

Then  a  dark  flush  crossed  Craig's  face,  for  he  knew 
well  the  subject  on  which  his  father  meant  to  speak  to 
him.  For  days  he  had  thought  of  little  else,  and  now 
the  crucial  moment  had  come.  Nevertheless,  Craig  lit 
his  cigar,  and  when  the  coffee  came  he  drank  it  with 
apparent  relish,  knowing  well  that  before  many  minutes 
were  over  he  would  be  asked  to  sacrifice  the  ambition 
and  work  he  so  dearL  prized. 

The  Earl  was  visibly  embarrassed.  He  cleared  his 
voice  once  or  twice,  and  fidgeted  with  his  spoon. 

"Your  mother  asked  me  to  speak  to  you,  Craig,"  he 
commenced  jerkilv.  "  Mrs.  Leith  Williams  has  been 
here  this  afternoon  and  told  her  that  your  battery  has 


"  She  is  Very  Much  Changed  "        225 

been  ordered  to  India  early  in  October.     Is  this  a  fact  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  I  have  only  known  it  for  the  last 
three  days." 

"  But,  my  dear  boy,  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  It  is 
out  of  the  question  that  we  can  part  with  you.  Good 
heavens  " — as  Craig  remained  silent — "  are  we  to  be  de- 
prived of  all  our  sons?" 

"  There  is  no  need  for  this  excitement,  father,"  re- 
turned Craig  coldly.  "  It  would  be  better  for  you  to  tell 
me  what  my  mother  and  you  wish  me  to  do.  I  am  not 
without  some  sense  of  duty,  and  though  I  tell  you  plainly 
that  my  whole  future  happiness  is  at  stake,  I  hope  I  am 
capable  of  making  some  sacrifice." 

"  Oh,  God  bless  vou,  mv  bov !  "  and  Lord  Merrkon 
seized  his  son's  hand.  "  I  think  if  you  went  to  India  it 
would  be  your  mother's  death-blow.  If  you  had  seen  her 
this  "afternoon,  vou  would  know  I  am  telling  you  the 
truth." 

"Then  you  wish  me  to  retire  from  active  service?" 
There  was  a  hard  tone  in  Craig's  voice. 

"  Yes,  yes,  send  in  your  papers — your  colonel  will 
understand.  There  will  be  no  difficulty — no  difficulty 
at  all.  Lathom  will  find  us  the  money.  I  shall  talk  to 
your  mother  about  letting  the  Grosvenor  Square  house, 
and  in  a  year  or  two  we  shall  be  on  our  legs  again. 
Good  God,  how  grateful  I  feel!  you  have  lifted  a  burden 
off  my  shoulders.  I  am  growing  an  old  man,  Craig,  and 
I  do  not  bear  things  as  I  used  to  do."  Then  a  softer 
look  come  into  the  young  man's  eyes. 

"  You  have  always  been  good  to  us,  sir,  and  we  owe 
you  some  return.  I  must  try  and  make  up  for  my 
brothers.  Father,  do  you  know,  I  was  going  to  make 
one  condition  before  I  consented  to  send  in  my  papers, 
but  I  thought  better  of  it." 

"  I  think  I  understand  what  you  mean,  Craig." 

"  I  am  sure  you  do,  sir ;  there  can  be  no  mistake  on 
that  point.  But  it  seemed  a  shabby  sort  of  thing  to  do. 
One  ought  to  do  one's  duty  without  looking  for  reward." 

"  You  are  right  there,  my  boy." 

15 


226  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  All  the  same,  father,  I  was  strongly  tempted  to 
make  your  consent  to  my  marriage  with  Joan  the  sole 
condition  of  giving  up  my  commission  ;  but  my  conscience 
has  got  the  better  of  me,  you  see."  But  as  Craig  said 
this,  the  Earl  looked  at  him  in  evident  bewilderment. 

"  But  we  understood  the  girl  had  refused  you  ?  " 

"  That  does  not  make  any  difference,  sir.  A  girl 
does  not  always  know  her  own  mind.  I  shall  not  be 
too  proud  to  ask  her  again.  But  it  is  too  late  to  discuss 
this.  I  think  we  had  better  go  to  the  drawing-room 
and  set  my  mother's  mind  at  rest."  And  Craig  spoke 
with  such  quiet  resolve  and  dignity  that  his  father 
looked  at  him  with  awed  admiration. 

"  A  fine,  manly  fellow,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "  He 
is  one  of  the  fighting  Bastows — every  inch  a  soldier. 
It  is  a  grievous  pity,  but  for  Hildegarde's  sake  he  must 
not  go."  And  the  Earl  shook  his  grey  head  rather  sadly 
as  he  followed  his  son  more  slowly. 


XXVII 

"WHAT  AM  I  TO  DO  WITH  MY  LIFE?" 

A  turn  in  the  pathway  of  duty — 

I  stood  in  the  perfect  day's  prime. 
Close,  close  to  the  hillside  of  beauty; 

The  voice  from  the  Silence  said,  "  Climb ! " 

The  road  to  the  beautiful  regions 
Lies  ever  through  Duty's  hard  way. 

Oh,  ye  who  go  searching  in  legions, 
Know  this,  and  be  patient  to-day. 

Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 

Craig  had  waited  for  his  father  to  join  him,  and  as 
they  entered  the  room  together,  Lady  Merriton  raised 
herself  up  on  her  couch.  She  was  shaking  from  head 
to  foot  with  intense  anxiety. 

"  Oh,  Merriton,  how  long  you  have  been !  I  was 
just  going  to  send  Dorothy  to  the  dining-room.  I  could 
not  have  borne  the  suspense  a  minute  longer."  But  be- 
fore her  husband  could  answer,  Craig  was  beside  her. 

"  It  is  all  right,  mother — don't  worry.  Of  course, 
under  the  circumstances,  I  cannot  leave  you." 

Then  Lady  Merriton  threw  her  arms  round  him. 
"  God  bless  you,  my  darling  boy!  "  she  said  hysterically, 
as  she  wept  on  his  shoulder. 

Craig  was  very  gentle  with  her.  He  was  shocked 
to  see  the  ravages  that  grief  and  nervous  suffering  had 
wrought  in  her  appearance.  She  had  been  a  good  and 
loving  mother  to  them  all.  and  now  her  feebleness  ap- 
pealed to  him  very  forcibly.  He  was  touched  by  her 
unaccustomed  caresses,  for  she  had  rarely  been  demon- 
strative with  her  sons.  "  You  are  our  dear  good  boy," 
she  whispered.  "  Your  father  and  I  will  never  forget 
this,"  kissing  the  hand  she  held. 

Craig  could  not  stav  long,  but  she  had  calmed  down 
and  looked  more  like  herself  before  he  left  her.     When 

227 


228  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

he  had  bidden  her  good-night,  he  made  a  sign  to  Lady 
Mary  to  join  him  outside,  and  she  followed  him  at  once. 

"  Oh,  Craig,  I  am  so  thankful  about  this !  "  she  said, 
taking  his  hand.  "  But  of  course  I  never  doubted  that 
you  would  do  your  duty.  Your  mother  will  get  well 
now." 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  returned  gloomily ;  "  but  I  never  saw 
her  look  like  this.  But  I  have  no  time  to  talk.  I  only 
want  to  know  if  you  are  going  to  tell  Joan  about  this  ?  " 

"  Tell  Joan !  "  with  a  faint  flush  of  surprise.  "  I  have 
not  thought  about  it.     Surely  there  is  no  hurry?  " 

"  No  hurry  at  all ;  in  fact,  I  would  prefer  her  not 
hearing  about  things  until  they  are  actually  settled.  All 
right,  we  understand  each  other,  Aunt  Mary.  We  will 
talk  about  this  later  on.  And  then  he  bade  her  good- 
night. 

"  Joan !  It  has  gone  deeper  than  I  thought,"  she  said 
to  herself,  as  she  went  back  to  the  drawing-room.  "  Well, 
there  is  no  need  for  me  to  write  for  the  next  two  or 
three  days." 

But  Lady  Mary  lay  awake  longer  than  usual  that 
night. 

"Will  the  dear  old  days  ever  come  back?"  she 
thought  sadly.  "  Well,  Craig  is  doing  his  duty,  and 
Joan  and  I  must  do  ours ;  and  the  end  He  knoweth." 
And  with  this  calming  thought  she  fell  asleep. 

Joan  remained  for  some  days  in  rather  a  restless 
state.  Lady  Cicely's  unexpected  appearance  had  un- 
settled her  more  than  she  had  supposed.  She  did  all 
in  her  power  to  hide  her  depression.  Perhaps  the  close, 
sultry  weather  added  to  her  discomfort.  Silence,  who 
noticed  her  pale  cheeks  and  heavy  eyes,  was  thankful 
to  remember  that  in  another  ten  days  they  would  be  at 
Revelstoke.  enjoying  the  sea-breezes. 

Joan  was  in  such  a  condition  of  nervous  tension  that 
even  trifles  seemed  to  be  unduly  magnified.  And  when 
Lady  Mary's  bi-weekly  letter  was  not  on  the  breakfast- 
table  as  usual,  she  conjured  up  all  sorts  of  gloomy  fancies 


"  What  Am  I  to  Do  with  My  Life?  "  220 

and  her  appetite  failed  her ;  and  when,  two  days  later,  the 
expected  letter  had  not  yet  arrived,  she  was  so  grave  and 
silent  that  her  brother  looked  at  her  anxiously. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself  to-day, 
Joan  ?  You  look  a  bit  seedy,  my  dear.  You  had  better 
come  with  us  to  Huntsmoor.  We  shall  be  back  for 
luncheon,  and  the  drive  will  do  you  good."  But  Joan 
shook  her  head. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Heath,  but  I  think  it  is  too  hot 
for  driving,  and  the  road  to  Huntsmoor  is  so  exposed. 
I  thought  of  going  over  to  the  Cathedral,  and  then  I 
have  letters  to  write."  And  Joan  rose  hurriedly  to  pre- 
vent any  more  discussion  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

"  I  hope  there  is  nothing  wrong  at  Gilnockie,"  ob- 
served Canon  Leigh ;  "  Joan  looks  worried  this  morning." 
But  Silence  could  give  him  no  information.  If  they  had 
only  known  it,  the  explanation  of  the  delay  was  perfectly 
simple. 

Lady  Mary  had  fully  intended  to  write ;  had  placed 
herself  at  the  writing-table  and  opened  her  blotting-case, 
when  a  violent  throbbing  in  her  temples  warned  her  that 
one  of  her  prostrating  headaches  was  coming  on,  the  in- 
variable result  of  any  protracted  mental  strain.  No 
remedies  could  ward  off  the  enemy,  and  Lady  Mary  could 
only  creep  up  to  bed  and  give  herself  up  to  Dunlop's 
devoted  ministrations.  Once  she  thought  that  she  would 
ask  Dorothy  to  send  Joan  a  note;  then  the  increasing 
pain  put  it  out  of  her  mind.  "  Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to 
write  myself  to-morrow,"  she  said  to  herself  that  night. 
But  the  attack  was  an  unusually  severe  one,  and  left  her 
too  weak  and  giddy  to  make  the  attempt. 

There  was  a  lump  in  Joan's  throat  as  she  put  on  her 
hat,  and  her  eyes  smarted  with  repressed  tears.  She  had 
wakened  with  a  heavy  heart  that  morning.  She  had  had 
such  a  strangely  happy  dream.     She  thought  she  was  in 

Brantwood  woods  with  Craig.  She  was  sitting  on  a 
bank,  and  he  was  just  below  her,  picking  primroses  and 
throwing  them   into  her  lap  by  handfuls.     Rascal   was 


230  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

rioting  in  the  young  bracken ;  she  could  see  his  white 
coat  as  he  rolled  over  and  over.  It  was  all  so  real  and 
vivid.  She  could  even  feel  the  cool  freshness  of  the 
heaped-up  dowers  in  her  lap.  "  It  is  like  a  stream  of 
molten  gold,"  she  heard  herself  saw  Then  two  strong 
han  :s  gripped  hers. 

"Joan,  how  long  is  this  to  g>  on?  When  are  yon 
goin  r  to  tell  me  the  truth,  that  you  love  me  as  I  love 
you?  "     Then,  as  she  felt  his  onus  round  her,  she  woke. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  have  that  dream  again  !  "  she  thou  Ju. 
as  she  crossed  the  green.  How  dry  and  brown  the  grass 
looked  for  want  of  rain;  even  the  leaves  on  the  limes 
and  elms  were  wilted  and  dusty.  The  sunshine  se 
to  beat  fiercely  down  on  her,  and  there  was  an  oppres^iv  : 
stillness  in  the  atmosphere  which  probably  heralded  a 
storm  before  evening.  Happily  the  Cathedral  was 
But  when,  at  the  last  moment,  she  took  her  place  in  the 
choir,  there  were  not  more  than  half-a-  lozen  people  in 
the  stalls;  and.  with  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Ramsay,  thess 
were  strangers. 

When  service  began,  Joan  tried  to  shake  off  her  1 
tude  and  depression.  Then  she  turned  suddenly  coll 
and  her  heart  beat  almost  to  suffocation.  Was  this  a 
continuation  of  her  dream,  or  was  that  young  man  in 
the  opposite  stall  really  Craig?  There  he  was  loo 
across  at  her.  Their  eyes  met.  Of  course  it  was  he! 
Then  Joan's  head  drooped  over  her  book,  and  she  lool 
no  more.  It  was  a  comfort  when  she  c^uh!  kneel  and 
hide  her  face,  though  it  was  doubtful  how  much  she 
attended  to  her  devotions.  He  had  come — he  had  kept 
his  promise — he  had  not  forgotten  her.  Oh,  how  thank- 
ful she  was  that  neither  Heath  nor  Silence  were  there ! 
Such  were  the  tumultuous  thoughts  which  coursed 
through  her  mind.  And  yet.  as  the  boys'  sweet  voices 
chanted  the  opening  verses  of  the  Psalm.  Joan's  heart 
chimed  in  with  a  little  song  of  joy.  Whatever  happened, 
it  was  good  to  see  him  again.  Presently  she  would  hear 
his  dear  voice,  feel  the  grasp  of  his  strong  hand.  "  Oh, 
how  wicked  I  am,"  thought  Joan,  "  I  am  not  thinking  of 


"  What  Am  I  to  Do  with  My  Life?  "  231 

my  prayers !  "  and  then  she  strove  bravely  to  control  her 
wandering  thoughts. 

Craig  behaved  very  well  on  the  whole,  but  then  Joan's 
appearance  had  given  him  no  sudden  shock.  He  had 
seen  her  from  afar,  had  watche  1  her  as  she  walked 
quietly  to  her  place.  No  doubt  the  sight  of  the  slim  girl- 
ish figure  with  its  willowy  grace  stirred  his  pulses.  But 
it  was  not  until  he  saw  her  sudden  paleness  and  the  quick 
flash  of  joy  in  her  eyes  that  he  lost  his  head  for  a  minute. 

She  was  glad  to  see  him !  Perhaps  he  had  been  a  bit 
too  sudden.  How  white  she  had  turned !  But  no,  when 
he  looked  again  her  colour  had  returned.  He  must  try 
to  put  the  whole  thing  aside  and  attend  to  the  service  ; 
but  Canon  Ramsay's  slow  delivery,  and.  the  length  of 
the  first  lesson,  made  him  inwardly  chafe.  He  was  sure 
Joan  was  thinner ;  she  looked  different  somehow,  though 
he  could  see  nothing  except  the  brim  of  her  hat  while 
they  were  sitting  down. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  either  of  the  young  people 
had  been  much  edified  by  the  service.  When  the  final 
amen  rang  through  the  sacred  building,  Joan  was  in  no 
hurry  to  move  from  her  seat.  She  waited  until  Mrs. 
Ramsay  had  left  the  choir.  Then  she  saw  Craig  was 
waiting  for  her  near  the  entrance,  and  she  walked  slowly 
towards  him.  He  seemed  to  await  her  with  impatience. 
As  he  grasped  her  hand  there  was  a  glow  in  his  eyes 
which  brought  a  quick  flush  to  the  girl's  face.  For  the 
moment  the  overmastering  sense  of  his  personality 
seemed  to  dominate  her,  and  it  was  only  with  a  strong 
effort  that  she  cotdd  regain  her  composure. 

Craig  was  quite  aware  of  her  nervousness,  though 
he  took  no  apparent  notice  of  the  fact. 

"  T  thought  the  service  would  never  end,"  he  observe;! 
candidly.  "  T  am  afraid  I  did  not  attend  properly. 
Where  are  you  going  to  take  me,  Joan  ?  T  want  to  find 
some  cool,  quiet  place  where  we  can  have  a  little  com- 
fortable talk." 

Joan  considered  for  a  moment.  She  could  not  well 
take  him  to  St.  Breda's  Lodge  in  the  absence  of  Silence 


232  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

and  her  brother,  and  they  would  not  be  back  for  another 
two  hours.     Besides,  Wanda  and  Jess  would  be  there. 

"  It  is  too  hot  in  the  Precincts,"  she  said,  "  and  I  do 
not  like  the  idea  of  talking  in  the  Cathedral.  If  you 
will  wait  a  moment,  Craig",  1  will  speak  to  the  head 
verger.  I  know  he  will  let  us  go  into  the  library,  it  will 
be  quite  cool  and  quiet  there."  Then  Craig  nodded  and 
she  hurried  away. 

Her  riotous  pulses  were  quieting  now.  Craig's  cool- 
ness and  easy  assumption  of  friendliness  were  putting 
her  more  at  her  ease.  Of  course  it  was  natural  that  he 
should  want  to  talk  to  her ;  so  much  had  happened  since 
they  had  parted.  Oh,  how  strong  and  well  and  brown  he 
looked,  and  yet  somehow  he  seemed  older  and  more  digni- 
fied.    She  must  not  forget  he  was  Lord  Josselyn  now. 

Joan  had  regained  her  old  frank  manner  when  she 
returned. 

"  Mr.  Stevens  says  there  is  no  one  in  the  library  this 
morning,  and  I  think  we  shall  find  it  tolerably  cool 
there."     And  she  was  right. 

Craig  looked  appreciatively  at  the  quaint,  venerable 
rooms,  with  their  book-lined  walls  and  little  nooks  and 
recesses.  They  fixed  on  one  with  an  open  window  com- 
manding a  view  of  a  little  green  enclosure.  Joan  appro- 
priated the  solitary  chair,  while  Craig  took  possession  of 
the  low  narrow  window-seat. 

"  I  call  this  quite  a  decent  place,"  he  observed.  "  Why 
don't  you  take  off  your  hat.  Joan  ?  "  But  she  shook  her 
head.  "  Do  you  know,"  with  disconcerting  abruptness, 
"  that  I  am  not  at  all  pleased  with  your  appearance — 
you  are  certainly  thinner." 

"  Oh,  what  nonsense !  "  but  Joan  carefullv  avoided 
bis  eyes.  "  I  think  we  are  all  feeling  the  heat  terribly. 
There  seems  no  air  anywhere ;  even  the  sunshine  seems 
dusty — you  know  what  T  mean.  But  we  shall  be  going 
next  week  to  Revelstoke." 

"  So  Aunt  Mary  told  me  yesterday." 

"Oh,  were  you  at  Gilnockie  yesterday!"  exclaimed 
Joan   eagerly.     "Did   she   send   me   a   message,   Craig? 


"  What  Am  I  to  Do  with  My  Life?  "  233 

I  have  been  worrying"  myself  dreadfully  because  she 
has  not  written  to  me  this  week  as  usual ;  but  if  she 

has  sent  me  a  message "     Then  Craig  laughed  in 

rather  an  embarrassed  way. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  none  of  the  home  people 
know  that  I  have  ran  over  here  to-day;  for  certain 
reasons  I  thought  it  best  to  keep  my  own  counsel.  But 
of  course  T  can  give  you  the  latest  and  special  edition 
of  Gilnockie  news." 

"  Oh,  yes,  please  do  1  " 

"  Well,  my  mother  is  decidedly  better.  We  are  all 
happier  about  her.  She  has  had  two  good  nights,  and 
actually  went  for  a  drive  yesterday.  My  father  and 
Dorothy  went  with  her." 

"And  Lady  Mary?" 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Mary  had  been  seedy  for  two  or  three 
days — one  of  those  fiendish  headaches  of  hers,  I  believe. 
But  she  was  in  the  drawing-room,  and  declared  that 
another  night's  sleep  would  put  her  to  rights." 

"  Oh,  I  was  sure  she  was  ill,"  returned  Joan  in  a 
distressed  tone.    But  Craig  combated  this  idea. 

"  No,  not  ill ;  only  Dorothy  gave  me  a  hint  on  the 
subject.  My  mother  has  been  leading  them  all  such  a 
life.  The  poor  soul  could  not  help  it,  but  the  brunt 
of  it  has  come  on  Aunt  Mary,  and  the  worry  and  the 
heat  together  quite  bowled  her  over.  I  remember  now, 
she  said  something  about  writing  to  you  to-day,  so  you 
will  have  her  letter  all  right  to-morrow."  And  Joan 
gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"You  are  quite  sure  that  is  all,  Craig?"  Then  he 
looked  at  her  with  his  honest  eyes. 

"  That  is  all.  to  my  knowledge,  so  there  is  no  need 
for  that  long  face."  But  the  girl's  eyes  suddenly  filled 
with  tears. 

"  If  you  knew  how  I  long  for  her  sometimes !  "  And 
when  Craig  put  his  hand  over  hers,  the  action  seemed  so 
brotherly  that  Joan  did  not  draw  it  away. 

"  Dear,  I  know ;  but  we  cannot  spare  Aunt  Mary  yet. 
If  you  only  realised  the  comfort  she  is  to  my  poor  mother 


234  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

and  Dorothy,  and  as  for  my  father "     Then  one  of 

Joan's  bright,  sudden  smiles  gladdened  the  young  man's 
heart.  This  pale,  depressed  girl  with  the  small  peaky 
face  was  not  like  his  old  sweetheart  Joan.  What  had 
they  all  done  to  her?  He  would  alter  all  that!  And 
Craig  threw  up  his  head  with  his  old  masterful  air.  But 
Joan's  thoughts  were  busy  at  that  moment  with  Lady 
Mary. 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  a  darling  she  would  be !  "  she  went 
on.  "  There  is  no  one  so  dear  and  comforting  when  one 
is  in  trouble ;  it  is  not  what  she  says,  but  one  is  so  sure 
of  her  love  and  sympathy." 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Mary  is  a  good  sort  when  she  comes  out 
of  her  groove  " — Craig  said  in  rather  an  off-hand  way  ; 
"  but,  like  all  the  Bastows,  she  has  her  limitations.  Joan, 
I  have  not  come  over  to  St.  Breda's  to  talk  about  Aunt 
Mary,  much  as  I  appreciate  her.  I  wanted  to  tell  you 
myself  that  I  have  given  up  all  idea  of  going  to  India ; 
in  fact,  I  have  already  sent  in  my  papers." 

Joan  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  without  speaking. 
"  Does  that  mean  that  you  have  thrown  up  the  battery — 
that  you  are  retiring  on  your  parents'  account?"  And 
as  he  nodded  curtly — "  Oh,  Craig,  how  splendid  of  you, 
but  how  terribly  hard !  " 

"  There  was  nothing  else  to  be  done,"  he  returned 
gloomily.  "  My  father  gave  me  to  understand  that  my 
mother  was  not  in  a  state  for  any  more  shocks,  and  she 
was  already  breaking  her  heart  at  the  idea  of  parting  with 
me.  What  could  a  fellow /do  under  such  circumstances, 
unless  he  acted  like  a  selfish  cad !  " 

"  Oh,  vou  were  right — quite  right ;  you  never  could 
have  left  those  poor  old  people :  but  all  the  same  I  am 
sorry  for  you." 

"  I  think  I  am  sorry  for  myself,"  he  returned  simply ; 
"  but  it  is  no  good  crying  over  spilt  milk,  so  I  must 
grin  and  bear  it.  But,  Joan,  what  am  I  to  do  with  my 
iife?  And  as  Craig  said  this  there  was  a  pained  and 
troubled  look  on  his  face  which  went  to  the  girl's  heart. 


XXVIII 

CRAIG  HAS  THE  LAST  WORD 

Constancy  and  faithfulness  mean  something  else  besides 
doing  what  is  easiest  and  pleasantest  to  ourselves.  They  mean 
renouncing  whatever  is  opposed  to  the  reliance  others  have  on 
us. — Anon. 

Now  I  have  tasted  her  sweet  soul  to  the  core — 
All  other  depths  are  shallow. 

Keats. 

If  Craig  had  come  over  to  St.  Breda's  to  seek  comfort 
in  Joan's  sympathy,  he  had  certainly  no  cause  for  disap- 
pointment. Joan  was  always  a  liberal  giver,  and  she  did 
not  fail  him  now.  For  the  moment  she  had  forgotten  the 
embarrassment  of  their  mutual  position.  She  could  only 
remember  that  her  old  playmate  and  comrade  was  in 
grievous  trouble,  and  that  her  woman's  wits  must  find 
some  way  of  helping  him.  No  one  else  could  understand 
him  as  she  did.  To  most  people  Craig  Bastow  was  only 
a  well-meaning,  pleasant-tempered  fellow ;  an  honest, 
clean-living  young  Englishman,  with  the  militant  instinct 
of  his  forbears.  Only  to  Joan,  and  perlnps,  in  a  lesser 
degree,  to  Lady  Cicely  O'Brien,  did  he  appear  in  the  light 
of  a  hero.  For,  alas  for  her  peace  of  mind !  the  petted 
heiress  was  by  no  means  indifferent  to  her  friend's 
brother. 

As  for  Joan,  she  thought  there  was  no  one  to  be  com- 
pared with  him.  What  did  it  matter  if  he  were  not  a 
miracle  of  cleverness,  if  he  preferred  soldiering  to  books, 
when  he  was  true  as  steel  and  had  never  been  known  to 
shirk  his  duty  or  do  a  shabby  action.  If  any  one  de- 
served to  be  happy,  be  did;  and  yet,  as  she  knew,  the 
whole  plan  and  purpose  of  his  life  was  frustrated. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  with  my  life?  "  he  had  said  to  her. 

Xo  wonder  Joan  poured  out  richly  of  her  pity  and 

235 


23()  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

sympathy.  "  If  you  knew  how  sorry  I  am  for  you!  "  she 
said  softly.  "  But  if  you  had  gone  to  India  and  anything 
had  happened,  you  would  never  have  had  another  happy 
moment  " ;  and  here  Joan's  expression  was  very  sweet. 
"  1  think  Lady  Mary  is  right  when  she  says  we  must 
just  do  our  duty  and  face  the  consequences." 

"  I  think  a  woman  is  always  more  ready  to  play  the 
martyr  than  a  man,"  he  returned  rather  dryly.  "  If  you 
knew  how  I  hate  the  whole  business !  But  of  course," 
checking  himself  with  an  impatient  sigh,  "  there  was 
raothing  else  to  be  done.  The  question  is,  What  am  I 
to  do  with  myself?  One  cannot  loaf  through  life  because 
one  has  a  title." 

"You  would  not  care  to  enter  Parliament?'  But  as 
Joan  made  the  suggestion  she  well  knew  what  his  answer 
would  be. 

"  I  am  willing  to  fight  for  my  country,"  he  returned 
a  little  fiercely,  "  but  I  should  be  a  sorry  politician. 
Why,  I  could  not  make  a  speech  to  save  my  life ;  and 
as  to  listening  to  a  set  of  old  fogies  half  the  night,  and 
bothering  myself  with  their  red  tapeism  and  party  ques- 
tions      No,  Joan,  that  sort  of  thing  would  not  suit  my 

constitution  at  all." 

"Then  why  not  try  farming,   Craig?" 

But  it  was  evident  the  young  man  received  this  sen- 
sible proposition  with  scant  favour. 

"  It  is  necessary  to  serve  some  sort  of  apprenticeship 
if  one  is  to  be  a  good  farmer ;  and  the  truth  is,  1  hardly 
know  a  turnip  from  a  mangel-wurzel.  Now,  my  father 
loves  the  land,"  went  on  Craig;  "he  will  stand  for  half- 
an-hour  at  a  time  admiring  his  prize  cattle,  or  watching 
the  men  ploughing.  If  he  had  not  had  the  misfortune  to 
be  a  belted  carl,  he  would  have  made  a  rattling  good 
farmer.  Under  these  circum stances  I  should  have  found 
my  work  cut  out  for  me;  guiding  the  team  and  plough- 
ing would  have  suited  me  down  to  the  ground." 

"Oh,  Craig,  how  absurd  you  are!"  But,  all  the 
same,  Joan  could  see  him  do  it.  No  manual  labour  would 
have  come  amiss  to  those  strong,  capable  hands. 


Craig  Has  the  Last  Word  237 

"As  it  is,  I  shall  just  loaf  round  at  the  governor's 
heels,  help  him  with  his  accounts,  and  look  after  the 
keepers,  and  do  a  little  shooting  au$/fishing  on  my  own 
account.  A  lively  sort  of  billet 'for  an  active-minded 
soldier !  " 

Joan  rested  her  chin  on  her  hand  and  looked  at  him 
thoughtfully.  Her  brain  was  hard  at  work  on  his  be- 
half.    Then  a  brilliant  idea  came  to  her. 

"  Craig,  it  is  no  use  talking  to  your  father.  With  all 
his  good-will,  he  seems  a  little  helpless  in  these  matters. 
Why  don't  you  talk  to  your  uncle,  Lord  Templeton  ?  " 

"To  my  Uncle  Templeton!  Whatever  put  that  into 
your  head,   Joan?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  But  T  always  liked  him  so  much ; 
he  used  to  be  so  kind  to  me  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  when 
he  and  Lady  Templeton  came  to  the  Abbey.  Dorothy 
told  me  he  had  been  a  soldier  in  his  younger  days,  so  that 
he  could  understand  things ;  and  besides,  he  is  a  man  of 
the  world." 

Craig  looked  at  her  admiringly.  "  You  have  a  wise 
little  head  of  your  own,  Joan,  and  it  is  not  a  bad  idea. 
Uncle  Templeton  is  rather  a  knowing  old  fellow,  though 
he  and  the  governor  have  not  hit  it  off  as  well  as  usual 
the  last  year  or  two.  I  believe  Josselyn  behaved  rather 
badly."  But  here  Craig  reddened  and  hurried  on.  "  I 
used  to  stay  at  Templeton  a  good  deal  when  I  was  a 
voungster,  and  I  recollect  the  handsome  tips  Clyde  and 
I  got  when  we  first  went  to  Eton." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go  and  ask  his  advice,  Craig 2 
He  always  seems  so  interested  in  you." 

"  Yes,  but  Clyde  was  his  favourite;  he  was  dreadfulh 
cut  up  when  he  heard  of  his  death.  Well,  T  don't  mind 
running  over  to  Templeton  when  the  governor  can  spare 
me.  I  daresay  the  old  boy  will  take  it  quite  as  a  com- 
pliment;  and  )  am  rather  fond  of  Aunt  Miriam,  though 
she  is  a  bit  frumpish  and  old  maidisb."  Then  Joan 
smiled  happily,  for  she  had  gained  her  point. 

Craig  knew  that  his  uncle  would  give  him  credit  for 
disinterested  motives,  for  neither  her  nor  his  brothers  had 


238  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

any  claim  on  the  Templeton  estate,  which  would  be  in- 
herited by  Lord  Templeton's  only  brother,  who  was  at 
present  with  his  regiment  in  India  ;  or,  in  the  event  of  his 
death,  by  his  eldest  son.  And  up  to  the  present  time  the 
Merritons  had  not  been  informed  that  Lady  Templeton 
intended  to  leave  her  fortune  in  equal  division  between 
Dorothy  and  Craig". 

"  There  is  no  need  for  your  brother  and''  Hubert  to 
have  everything,"  she  had  said  to  her  husband  a  few 
months  previously.  "  I  am  very  fond  of  Dorothy,  and, 
as  she  does  not  seem  inclined  to  marry,  she  will  be  glad 
to  be  independent  of  her  parents.  And  Craig  is  a  fine 
fellow."  And  Lord  Templeton  had  offered  no  objection 
to  this. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Joan  suddenly  bethought 
herself  of  Lady  Cicely. 

"  Oh,  by  the  bye,  Craig,"  she  said  a  little  hurriedly, 
"  I  wonder  if  Dorothy  told  you  that  I  saw  Cicely  O'Brien 
last  week.  She  motored  over  with  the  Mostyn  girls." 
r»ut  Craig,  who  seemed  sunk  in  a  brown  study,  roused 
himself  with  difficulty. 

"  Cicely  O'Brien?  "  he  observed  indifferently.  "  Yes, 
I  think  Dollie  did  say  something  about  it ;  but  I  did  not 
take  much  notice."  Happy  Joan  tried  to  conceal  her 
satisfaction — how  little  interest  he  showed  at  the  mention 
of  her  rival's  name ! 

"  The  Mostyn  girls  wanted  to  do  the  Cathedral,  so 
Cicely  and  I  sat  out  in  the  Precincts  and  had  a  long 
talk.  T  thought  I  never  saw  her  look  prettier,  and  she 
was  so  kind  and  affectionate,  and  such  a  dear  altogether. 
Xo  wonder  your  mother  and  Dorothy  are  so  fond  of  her." 

"  They  don't  seem  able  to  live  without  her  just  now," 
he  returned  in  rather  a  bored  tone.  "  That  is  the  worst 
of  girls:  they  are  so  hot  and  strong  in  their  friendships. 
One  may  have  too  much  even  of  a  good  thing." 

"  Oh,  Craig,  how  can  you  be  so  hard  on  poor  Cicely !  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  hard.  Lady  Cicely  and  I  are 
very  good  friends  when  we  meet ;  but  in   my  opinion 


Craig  Has  the  Last  Word  239 

it  was  a  mistake  to  ask  her  to  Gilnockie  just  now,  and 
I  was  awfully  glad  that  her  sister's  accident  prevented 
her  from  coming.  Neither  my  father  nor  I  am  in  the 
mood  for  visitors."  And  as  Joan  hardly  knew  what 
reply  to  make  to  this,  she  remained  silent.  It  would 
not  do,  evidently,  to  say  any  more  on  that  subject.  She 
was  wondering-  what  she  had  to  tell  him  next,  when 
Craig-  suddenly  leant  forward  and  took  her  hand. 

"  It  strikes  me  that  we  are  wasting  precious  time 
in  family  gossip  which  might  be  far  more  profitably 
employed."  Something  in  his  tone  put  Joan  on  her 
guard,  and  she  tried  gently  to  free  herself ;  but  his  grasp 
tightened  on  her  wrist. 

"  Don't  worry,"  he  said  coolly.  "  I  only  want  you  to 
answer  me  a  question.  Joan,  were  you  telling  me  the 
truth  or  a  lie  when  you  said  in  the  Brantwood  copse  that 
you  only  cared  for  me  as  a  dear  friend?  On  your 
honour,  Joan,  as  between  man  and  man,  you  must  answer 
me  that  " — and  Craig's  blue  eyes  were  stern  and  deter- 
mined. 

The  crucial  moment  had  come  and  had  taken  her  by 
surprise ;  but,  though  she  had  tacitly  deceived  him  all 
these  months,  she  knew  that  she  would  rather  drop  dead 
at  his  feet  than  lie  to  him.  And  yet  how  was  she  to 
compromise  and  evade  the  difficulty? 

"  You  misunderstood — I  never  said  that,"  she  re- 
turned weakly.  Then  he  looked  at  her  in  incredulous 
astonishment. 

"  Joan,"  he  said  indignantly,  "  how  dare  you  pre- 
varicate to  me  of  all  people,  when  I  heard  those  words 
with  my  own  ears !  Did  you,  or  did  you  not  tell  me  that 
you  did  not  wish  me  to  say  again  that  I  loved  you  and 
wanted  you  to  be  my  wife?  '  I  really  mean  it,  Craig  ' — 
those  were  your  very  words,  Joan." 

"  I  do  not  deny  them,"  she  returned  desperately,  "  and 
T  spoke  the  truth  when  I  said  that  I  never  wished  you 
to  speak  to  me  in  that  way  again.  How  could  I  wish  to 
ruin  your  life !     But,  Craig,  you  made  one  mistake  that 


240  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

day,  though  I  thought  it  better  for  your  sake  not  to  put 
it  right.  I  never  said — how  could  I  ? — that  I  only  cared 
for  you  as  a  dear  friend.  The  '  only'  was  your  own  in- 
vention." Joan  said  this  bravely,  though  her  face  was 
burning  and  her  hands  cold  as  ice.  But  as  Craig  dropped 
her  hands,  and  with  a  low  exclamation  of  endearment, 
would  have  taken  her  in  his  arms,  Joan  drew  back  with 
a  gesture  that  forbade  his  approach. 

"Craig — dear  Craig,  just  listen  to  me  a  moment! 
All  these  months  T  have  been  so  unhappy  because  I  dare 
not  let  you  know  the  truth,  and  I  could  not  bear  the  idea 
that  I  was  deceiving  you." 

"  I  think  you  deserved  to  be  unhappy,  Joan.  I  know 
you  nearly  broke  my  heart." 

"  Oh,  do  not  speak  to  me  in  that  tone,  as  though  you 
were  angry  with  me." 

"  But  I  am  angry — righteously  angry !  I  think  it 
was  playing  a  low  down  game  to  let  me  believe  what  was 
simply  untrue.  Even  now  I  can  hardly  believe  it  of  you, 
Joan." 

"  I  wanted  to  set  it  right,"  she  faltered,  "  but  for  your 
sake  and  the  sake  of  your  people  I  dared  not  do  it. 
Craig,  can't  you  understand  and  forgive  me?  If  you 
had  found  out  how  much  I  cared,  would  you  have  taken 
my  answer?  " 

"  By  heavens,  no — any  more  than  I  take  it  now !  " 
But  again  she  put  her  hand  up  to  stop  him. 

"  Wait,  I  have  not  finished  ;  there  is  more  that  I  have 
to  say.  Craig,  dear,  whether  you  forgive  me  or  not,  I 
will  go  back  to  St.  Breda's  Lodge  with  a  lighter  heart, 
because  there  is  no  longer  this  shadow  between  us,  and 
you  know  that,  though  T  refused  to  be  your  wife,  your 
love  was  the  most  precious  thing  to  me  on  earth." 

"  Oh,  Joan,  my  darling,  my  true-hearted  girl !  " 

"  You  may  call  me  that  for  once,  and  I  shall  be  as 
proud  as  though  you  crowned  me.  But,  Craig,  dearly  as 
I  love  you,  nothing  will  induce  me  to  be  your  wife." 

"Joan,  are  you   mad?     Do  you  think  I   shall   ever 


Craisr  Has  the  Last  Word  241 


i^ 


marry  any  other  woman,  though  she  were  as  rich  as 
Croesus  and  as  divinely  beautiful  as  a  young  goddess?" 
Then  a  faint  smile  flitted  across  Joan's  pale  face.  How 
s\\  eet  it  was  to  hear  such  words !  Could  any  lover  be 
more  perfect! 

"  I  can  say  nothing  as  to  that,"  she  returned  hur- 
riedly ;  "  the  future  is  not  in  our  hands,  and  in  the  years 
to  come  you  may  see  fit  to  change  your  mind.  There  is 
only  one  thing  of  which  I  am  certain — that  I  will  not 
marry  you  unless  your  parents  ask  me  to  do  so.  I  will 
do  my  duty,  Craig,  however  you  may  fail  in  yours." 

And  though  Craig  stormed  and  argued  in  his  most 
masterful  fashion,  making  light  of  her  objections  and 
brushing  down  her  girlish  theories  as  easily  as  though 
they  were  ninepins,  Joan  remained  firm  to  her  point. 
She  would  love  him  all  her  life,  but  she  would  never 
marry  him  as  long  as  the  Merritons  opposed  the  match. 

Craig's  indignation  knew  no  bounds  when  he  realised 
that  his  man's  will  was  set  at  naught  by  this  girl's  obsti- 
nacy and  adherence  to  her  narrow  views  of  duty.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  saying  something  particularly  crush- 
ing and  sarcastic,  when  Joan,  who  had  been  standing 
hitherto,  suddenly  dropped  into  her  chair  with  an  air 
of  intense  weariness  that  appealed  to  his  better  feelings. 

"  Oh,  Craig,  do  not  make  it  too  hard  for  me!  Even 
if  we  cannot  agree  on  this  one  point,  let  me  at  least  try 
and  do  my  duty  in  peace.  Do  you  think  I  have  not 
enough  to  bear  as  it  is  ?  "  And  one  or  two  tears  rolled 
down  her  cheeks.  "  Oh,  my  dear,  be  kind  to  me  even 
if  you  think  I  am  wrong !  "  And  the  next  minute  Craig 
was  kneeling  beside  her  and  covering  her  hand  with 
kisses. 

"  Forgive  me,  darling;  T  was  a  brute  and  you  are  an 
angel !  Now  T  will  not  tease  you  any  more,  and  you 
shall  have  your  own  wav  for  a  little." 

"How  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  timidly.  Then  he 
rose  to  his  feet  with  a  short  laugh. 

"  Well,  we  are  engaged  of  course,  though  it  seems  I 

16 


242  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

am  not  to  enjoy  any  of  the  privileges  and  prerogatives 
belonging  to  such  a  position.  Why,  how  frightened  you 
look,  Joan !  Cut  I  am  speaking  words  of  truth  and 
soberness.  When  two  people  love  each  other  as  we  two 
do,  and  own  the  fact  frankly,  they  have  certainly  taken 
each  other  for  better  or  worse,  although  their  Guardian 
Angels  are  the  only  witnesses." 

Joan,  covered  with  confusion,  implored  him  not  to 
talk  so  recklessly.  "  For  you  know  quite  well  that  I'm 
not  engaged  to  you,"  she  said  seriously.  But  Craig, 
overjoyed  at  his  sweetheart's  confession,  had  taken  the 
bit  between  his  teeth  and  bolted. 

"  All  right,  don't  worry.  Anyway,  I  shall  tell  Aunt 
Mary  that  I  am  engaged  to  you,  and  no  amount  of  con- 
tradiction on  your  part  will  avail.  You  may  refuse  to 
take  me  for  your  husband,  but  you  cannot  prevent  me 
from  being  your  lover  and  waiting  with  what  patience  I 
can  muster  until  '  the  clouds  roll  by.'  There,  that  is 
my  last  word,  and  if  you  do  not  say  amen  to  it,  that  is 
your  look-out,  not  mine.  Now,  my  good  child,  do  you 
know  we  have  been  talking  for  two  mortal  hours,  and  I 
am  quite  faint  from  emotion  and  inanition.  Do  you  think 
your  brother  and  Mrs.  Leigh  will  be  kind  enough  to  give 
me  some  luncheon  ?  " 

Joan  rose  from  her  chair  with  a  dazed  look:  Craig's 
bold  request  had  nearly  taken  her  breath  away. 

"  I  think  they  will  have  returned  from  Huntsmoor 
by  this  time,"  she  replied  hesitatingly ;  "  I  had  no  idea 
it  was  so  late.  Yes,  I  am  quite  sure  that  Heath  and 
Silence  will  be  very  pleased  to  give  luncheon."  Never- 
theless Joan  grew  hot  from  head  to  foot  at  the  thought 
of  that  embarrassing  introduction;  but  Craig  seemed 
quite  at  his  ease. 

"  We  may  as  well  make  tracks  for  St.  Breda's  Lodge,'' 
he  said  quietly.  And  a  moment  later  they  were  crossing 
the  sunny  green. 


XXIX 

"A  FIGHTING  BASTOW" 

I  count  life  just  a  stuff 
To  try  the  soul's  strength  on,  educe  the  man. 
Who  keeps  one  end  in  view  makes  all  things  serve. 
As  with  the  body — he  who  hurls  a  lance 
Or  heaps  up  stone  on  stone,  shows  strength  alike, 
So  will  I  seize  and  use  all  means  to  prove 
And  show  this  soul  of  mine  you  crown  as  yours, 
And  justify  us  both. 

Browning. 

Rascal's  shrill  bark  of  welcome  advertised  the  arrival 
of  the  new-comers ;  and  Canon  Leigh,  who  was  just 
crossing-  the  hall  on  his  way  to  the  dining-room,  stood 
still  with  surprise  at  seeing  the  excited  little  animal  leap- 
ing up  against  a  tall  young  man  in  evident  joyous  recog- 
nition of  an  old  friend. 

Joan  accosted  her  brother  rather  nervously.  "  I  saw 
Lord  Josselyn  in  the  Cathedral,  Heath ;  and  as  I  thought 
you  and  Silence  would  be  back  by  this  time,  I  brought 
him  in  for  some  luncheon." 

"  I  believe  I  asked  myself,  Canon  Leigh,"  annotated 
Craig  in  his  frank  way.  "  As  your  sister  and  I  are  such 
old  friends,  I  thought  I  might  take  the  liberty."  And 
there  was  no  want  of  cordiality  in  Heath's  manner  as  he 
assured  him  of  his  welcome. 

Perhaps  the  situation  was  a  trifle  awkward,  but  the 
law  of  hospitality  was  certainly  paramount  at  this 
moment.  "  I  must  introduce  you  to  my  wife — I  think 
you  have  never  met,"  he  said  in  his  pleasantest  tone : 
"  we  shall  find  her  awaiting  us  at  the  luncheon-table. 
My  love,"  as  Silence  rose  in  evident  surprise,  "  this  is 
Lord  Josselyn."  Then  Silence  held  out  her  hand  with 
the  grave  sedateness  which  generally  concealed  her  shy- 
ness at  the  unexpected  approach  of  a  stranger. 

243 


244.  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Craig,  who  had  heard  a  good  deal  of  Mrs.  Leigh's 
idiosyncrasies  from  Joan,  was  not  in  the  least  repelled 
by  her  unsmiling  gravity.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  much 
impressed  by  her  stateliness  and  fair  Madonna  face.  It 
pleased  him  to  think  that  Joan's  belongings  were  so 
creditable  in  appearance. 

The  two  elder  boys  had  not  yet  returned  from  Win- 
chester, they  were  expected  the  following  day :  but 
Wanda,  with  her  handsome  face  and  dainty  ways,  looked 
to  him  a  thorough  little  aristocrat,  and  Jess  was  always 
attractive  to  gentlemen.  Joan,  who  had  disappeared  to 
take  off  her  hat  and  smooth  her  roughened  hair,  now 
returned  and  took  her  accustomed  seat  by  her  brother. 
She  was  thankful  that  Jess  was  between  her  and  Craig, 
and  that  she  could  listen  to  his  voice  in  peace  without 
taking  part  in  the  conversation,  which  was  carried  on 
principally  between  the  two  gentlemen. 

Joan  made  a  poor  luncheon,  although  in  reality  she 
was  feasting  sumptuously.  It  seemed  to  her  an  incred- 
ible joy  that  Craig  should  be  breaking  bread  in  her 
brother's  house.  How  well  he  and  Heath  seemed  to 
understand  each  other.  Perhaps  Craig  was  exerting 
himself  in  the  hope  of  impressing  them  favourably,  for 
she  had  never  heard  him  talk  so  well.  She  noticed,  too, 
an  awakening  interest  in  Silence's  quiet  grey  eves.  She 
forgot  her  shyness  once  or  twice  in  her  anxiety  that 
the  guest  should  make  a  good  luncheon. 

"  I  wish  every  one  had  made  as  excellent  a  meal  as 
I  have,"  remarked  Craig.  But  his  pointed  tone  made 
Joan  bend  over  her  plate.  How  could  she  eat  when 
her  heart  was  so  full !  No,  it  was  useless  making  the 
attempt ;  she  could  only  empty  her  tumbler  of  iced 
lemonade. 

Silence,  with  true  womanly  tact,  took  pity  on  her  at 
last  by  rising  from  the  table ;  but,  as  Joan  and  the  little 
girls  and  Noel  joined  her,  Craig,  who  had  opened  the 
door  for  his  hostess,  closed  it  again  and  went  back  to 
his  place. 


"A  Fighting  Bastow  "  245 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  explain  matters  to  you,  Canon 
Leigh,"  he  said  quietly,  "  if  you  are  disposed  to  listen  to 
me."  And  as  Heath  had  no  objection  to  offer  to  this, 
they  were  soon  engaging"  in  a  momentous  conversation. 
Silence  looked  at  her  sister-in-law  in  some  perplexity. 

"  Do  yon  think  Prescott  had  better  take  the  coffee 
to  them  there?  I  thought  we  should  have  had  it  in  the 
garden."     But  Joan  negatived  this  with  great  decision. 

"  I  think  Heath  would  prefer  it  in  the  dining-room, 
there  is  so  little  shade  everywhere.  Silence  " — speaking 
evidently  with  an  effort — "  I  ought  to  tell  you  how  it  all 
happened." 

"  Yes,  dear.  Will  you  mind  waiting  while  I  speak  to 
Prescott?  Jess,  I  will  not  allow  you  to  tease  Aunt  Joan 
about  playing  croquet — no  one  must  think  of  such  a 
thing  before  six  o'clock.  If  you  have  nothing  else  to 
do,  you  and  Wanda  had  better  take  your  books  into  the 
kitchen  garden ;  you  will  find  a  shady  corner  there.  I 
won't  be  a  moment,  Joan.  If  you  will  go  into  the  study 
I  will  join  you  there,  and  we  shall  hear  when  the  gentle- 
men leave  the  dining-room." 

Joan  rather  repented  her  impulsive  speech  as  she 
seated  herself  in  the  low  window-seat.  But  she  felt  she 
owed  some  explanation  to  her  sister-in-law  for  bringing 
in  an  unexpected  guest.  So  when  Silence  came  back  a 
little  flurried  with  unusual  excitement,  Joan  made  room 
for  her  with  a  tolerably  good  grace. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  and  Heath  would  think  it  a  little 
odd  of  me  to  bring  in  Lord  Josselyn  like  that,  but  I  really 
could  not  help  myself,"  she  began  ;  "  and,  as  he  said  at 
luncheon,  he  really  invited  himself." 

"And  he  was  in  the  Cathedral?"  asked  Silence 
curiously. 

"  Yes,  but  T  was  not  aware  of  the  fact  till  the  service 
had  begun ;  he  was  just  opposite  to  me." 

"Oh.  dear,  how  surprised  you  must  have  been!" 

"  Surprise  is  hardly  the  right  word,"  thought  Joan. 
Then  she  continued  hastily: 


246  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  He  was  waiting  for  me  when  I  came  out,  and  he 
asked  me  to  take  him  to  some  cool,  quiet  place,  as  he  had 
a  good  deal  to  tell  me.  So  I  thought  of  the  library,  and 
as  no  one  was  there  we  were  not  disturbed." 

"  Yon  must  have  had  a  good  long  talk,"  remarked 
Silence  with  a  smile,  "  for  it  was  nearly  two  before  you 
came  into  the  dining-room ;  but  as  we  were  late  ourselves 
it  did  not  matter." 

"  I  had  no  idea  of  the  time,"  returned  Joan  frankly, 
"  until  Craig  reminded  me,  and  asked  if  he  might  come 
back  with  me  to  luncheon,  and  of  course  I  could  hardly 
refuse." 

"  No,  indeed !  and  I  think  it  was  so  nice  and  friendly 
of  Lord  Josselyn  to  suggest  it.  Joan,  I  hope  you  won't 
mind  my  saying  how  much  I  like  him ;  he  is  so  pleasant 
and  simple,  and  does  not  stand  on  his  dignity  as  some 
young  men  would  do  in  his  position." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  him,  Silence,  for  you  are  not  at 
all  an  easy  person  to  please.  And  I  am  sure  that  you 
will  be  sorry  to  hear  that  he  is  troubled  because  he  is 
obliged  to  retire  from  active  service.  His  people  refuse 
to  part  with  him,  so  he  is  compelled  to  make  the  sacri- 
fice. He  talked  to  me  a  great  deal  about  it.  He  doesn't 
seem  to  know  what  he  is  going  to  do  with  himself. 
You  have  no  idea  how  devoted  he  is  to  his  profession." 

"  What  a  pity !  "  observed  Silence  thoughtfully.  "  Of 
course  T  don't  see  how  he  could  leave  his  parents  under 
the  circumstances,  but  it  certainly  seems  a  little  hard  on 
him,  poor  fellow." 

"  Tt  is  more  than  hard,"  returned  Joan  vehemently. 
"  It  was  trouble  enough  for  him  to  lose  his  brother,  and 
to  have  to  step  into  his  place — the  very  thing  of  all  others 
he  hates.  Craig  is  rather  a  democrat  at  heart,  and  fuss 
and  ceremony  bore  him.  He  wanted  to  go  out  into  the 
world,  and  fight  for  his  country,  and  see  his  men  in  action, 
and  now  he  will  just  be  a  titled  loafer,  as  he  calls  it;  but 
I  told  him  he  must  find  some  congenial  occupation." 

"  Yes,  of  course.  There  is  no  need  for  loafing,  I 
should  think." 


"  A  Fighting  Bastow  "  247 

But  Silence  looked  a  little  puzzled  and  disappointed 
as  she  said  this.  They  had  been  together  at  least  two 
hours  and  a  half  in  that  musty  old  library.  Surely  their 
conversation  had  noi  been  confined  to  soldiering.  If 
Lord  Josselyn  were  still  in  love  with  Joan  he  must  un- 
doubtedly have  made  use  of  so  golden  an  opportunity  to 
propose  to  her  again ;  but  she  feared  from  Joan's  manner 
that  she  was  not  to  be  enlightened  on  this  point.  Silence 
could  only  make  her  own  deductions.  Something  had 
certainly  passed  between  them.  All  through  luncheon 
Joan  had  been  shy  and  silent.  She  could  not  remember 
hearing  her  voice  once.  She  looked  conscious,  excited, 
but  not  unhappy,  and  Lord  Josselyn  seemed  fairly 
cheerful. 

If  only  Joan  would  believe  in  her  sisterly  sympathy 
and  not  stint  her  confidence !  It  was  almost  too  tanta- 
lising. Silence  was  not  at  all  sure  how  matters  had 
been  settled.  If  Joan  had  refused  him  for  the  second 
time,  Lord  Josselyn  had  certainly  not  accepted  her  decis- 
ion as  final,  or  he  would  hardly  have  eaten  so  hearty  a 
luncheon  and  appeared  so  much  at  his  ease.  On  the  othc- 
hand,  she  did  not  believe  for  a  moment  that  Joan  would 
consent  to  any  engagement.  Silence  sighed  with  baffled 
curiosity,  but  she  must  wait  until  her  husband  made 
things  clear  to  her ;  at  least  Heath  never  kept  anything 
from  her,  and  this  lengthy  confab  in  the  dining-room  evi- 
dently meant  business. 

Joan  was  clearly  of  this  opinion ;  she  was  growing 
restless,  and  seemed  listening  to  every  sound.  Then  she 
looked  at  the  clock. 

"  How  long  they  are,"  she  observed  uneasily.  "  It  is 
half-past  three  now,  and  Craig  means  to  take  the  4.20 
to  town.  He  wants  to  get  down  to  Eastbourne  to-night ; 
he  says  his  mother  will  worry  if  he  does  not  turn  up." 

"  T  don't  know  what  Prescott  will  think  or  being-  kept 
out  of  the  dining-room  like  this,"  returned  Silence,  "  and 
I  really  must  go  and  fetch  my  work.  There,  I  can  hear 
them  moving.     I  will  just  go  and  tell  them  we  are  here." 


248  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

But  Silence  did  not  return,  and  the  next  moment 
Craig  came  quickly  into  the  room. 

"  1  have  just  come  to  say  good-bye,  Joan.  I  have 
not  a  moment  to  spare.  Your  brother  is  going  to  walk 
with  me  to  the  station — we  have  not  quite  finished  our 
talk." 

"  Oh,  Craig,  what  have  you  been  telling  him  all  this 
time  ?  "  asked  the  girl  anxiously. 

"  You  had  better  ask  him,  dear,  for  I  have  no  time 
to  explain  anything ;  he  told  me  that  he  should  have  a 
talk  with  you  when  he  got  back.  He  was  awfully  jolly, 
and  we  got  on  as  well  as  possible.  I  have  had  a  rattling 
good  time,  and  feel  more  like  myself  than  I  have  for 
months — thanks  to  your  confession,  sweetheart." 

"  Oh,  but,  Craig,  do  wait  one  moment.  I  want  you  to 
promise  me  that  you  will  not  say  anything  to  Lady 
Mary."  But  he  only  laughed,  and  there  was  a  deter- 
mined look  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  shall  make  no  such  promise,"  he  returned  firmly. 
"  You  have  taken  your  own  line  and  I  must  take  mine. 
Don't  worry,  darling;  it  will  all  be  right  some  day.  All 
comes  to  those  who  know  how  to  wait,  as  poor  old  Clyde 
used  to  say,  and  we  are  young  enough  to  wait  for  any 
number  of  years."  And  then  he  stooped  over  her,  and 
his  lips  just  touched  the  soft,  shining  hair  above  her 
temple ;  but  his  touch  was  so  gentle  and  reverent  that 
Joan  hardly  felt  the  caress.  Then  he  smiled  at  her  and 
hurried  away. 

Joan  sat  still  in  a  sort  of  blissful  dream.  No  one 
came  near  her.  Not  a  sound  reached  the  quiet  room. 
The  noontide  heat  had  lessened,  and  the  threatened  storm 
'•nd  evidently  passed  away  or  broken  at  a  distance.  A 
baby  breeze  was  stirring  tli'"  tree-tops,  and  a  weary,  over 
burdened  bee  was  sleeping  in  the  heart  of  a  red  rose.  A 
sense  of  prevailing  peace,  the  stirring  of  some  strange 
visionary  hope,  seemed  to  enfold  her.  "  All  comes  round 
to  those  who  know  how  to  wait  " — were  not  those  his 
words  ?     Joan  closed  her  eyes  and  tried  to  think.     What 


"  A  Fighting  Bastow  "  249 

had  happened?  Was  she  in  any  way  to  blame  for  Craig's 
masterful  tone?  Could  any  girl  have  spoken  more 
plainly,  and  yet  how  had  she  found  courage  to  say  those 
words? — "  Dearly  as  I  love  you,  nothing  will  induce 
me  to  be  your  wife."  And  again :  "  There  is  only  one 
thing  of  which  I  am  certain,  that  I  will  not  marry  you 
unless  your  parents  ask  me  to  do  so."  Did  such  words 
as  these  give  Craig  a  loophole  for  his  audacious  state- 
ment that  they  were  virtually  engaged?  Joan  gave  a 
little  sob  of  happy  excitement  when  she  reached  this  point. 
"  You  know  quite  well  that  I  am  not  engaged  to  you," 
she  had  assured  him  almost  indignantly,  but  she  might  as 
well  have  spoken  to  the  wind. 

Oh,  how  absurd  and  wrong-headed  he  was!  Yet 
could  anything  be  more  beautiful  and  satisfying,  more 
infinitely  comforting,  than  such  generous  wrong-headed- 
ness  !  Had  any  girl  ever  had  such  a  lover !  "  Oh,  what 
will  Lady  Mary  say  ?  "  was  her  next  thought.  "  I  shall 
not  have  a  moment's  peace  until  I  explain  matters  to  her, 
and  yet  how  is  such  a  letter  to  be  written?  "I  must 
make  her  understand  that  I  am  not  to  blame  because 
Craig  chooses  to  be  masterful.  Shall  I  ever  forget  the 
way  he  looked  and  spoke?"  and  Joan  hid  her  flushe'd 
face  in  her  hands.  When  she  raised  her  head  again  the 
crimson  rose  was  empty — the  tired  bee,  with  its  laden 
honey-bags,  was  on  its  way  to  the  hive.  A  moment 
later  she  heard  her  brother's  step  outside. 

He  looked  hot  and  tired,  but  spoke  cheerfully. 

"  T  thought  I  should  find  you  still  here,  Joan,  so  we 
may  as  well  get  our  talk  over  before  tea.  My  dear,  your 
young  man  has  given  me  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  but 
I  am  bound  to  tell  you  that  I  consider  him  a  fine  fellow  ;  " 
and  Joan  was  at  once  aware  from  Heath's  tone  that  he 
was  exceedingly  pleased. 

"  Did — did  he  tell  you  everything?  " 
"  Yes,  my  dear.     He  was  extremeh    frank  and  com- 
municative, and  we  threshed  the  whole  business  out  very 
thoroughly.     He  told   me  all   that  had  passed  between 


250  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

you  in  the  Cathedral  library,  he  even  informed  me  that 
you  had  refused  him  again ;  and,  under  the  circumstances, 
I  think  you  acted  very  properly.  You  and  I  are  in  a 
very  awkward  position,  Joan." 

"  Do  you  think  I  do  not  realise  that,  Heath?  " 

"  I  am  sure  you  do.  And  of  course,  though  you  and 
Lord  Josselyn  have  my  fullest  sympathy,  I  dared  not 
give  a  word  of  encouragement  when  he  told  me  that  he 
considered  himself  engaged  to  you  and  that  he  intended 
to  tell  Lady  Mary  so.  I  made  him  understand  that  he 
must  do  it  at  his  own  risk,  and  that  I  could  not  counte- 
nance such  unpractical  and  quixotic  generosity. 

"  '  I  hope  you  will  tell  Lady  Mary  that  Joan  abso- 
lutely refused  to  listen  to  you,'  I  said  dryly ;  and  what 
do  you  suppose  his  high  and  mighty  lordship  said  in 
reply  ?  '  If  your  sister  refuses  me  a  dozen  times  it  will 
make  no  difference.  The  Bastows  are  born  fighters,  and 
they  generally  get  their  way." 

"  Oh,  dear — oh,  dear!  "  And  then  the  tea-bell  rang: 
and  as  there  wras  absolutely  nothing  more  to  say,  they 
joined  the  rest  of  the  family  in  the  dining-room. 


XXX 

"NONE  OF  THAT,  GOVERNOR" 

It  is  easy  enough  to  be  pleasant 

When  life  flows  by  like  a  song, 
But  the  man  worth  while  is  the  one  who  will  smile 

When  everything  goes  dead  wrong. 

Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 

Always  laugh  when  you  can ;  it  is  a  cheap  medicine.  Merri- 
ment is  a  philosophy  not  well  understood.  It  is  the  sunny  side 
of  existence. — Byron. 

Silence  possessed  her  soul  in  patience  until  late  in 
the  evening,  and  until  then  she  exercised  a  quiet  sur- 
veillance over  her  young  sister-in-law. 

When,  during  tea-time,  Jess  renewed  her  entreaties 
for  Joan  to  play  croquet,  Silence  magnanimously  offered 
herself  in  her  stead.     Joan  gave  her  a  grateful  look. 

When  the  family  had  trooped  out  into  the  garden, 
Joan  shut  herself  up  in  the  cool  empty  drawing-room, 
with  its  open  windows  and  great  bowls  of  roses  and  car- 
nations, and  wrote  her  letter  to  Lady  Mary.  It  was  not 
an  easy  task,  but  it  was  accomplished  at  last. 

Lady  Mary  nearly  wept  over  that  simple,  girlish  out- 
pouring. 

"  Do  not  blame  me  more  than  you  can  help,  for  indeed  I 
could  not  prevent  his  coming,"  wrote  Joan. 

But  she  was  infinitely  comforted  by  Lady  Mary's 
reply. 

"  Your  poor  dear  child,"  she  began,  "  do  you  think  for  one 
moment  that  I  should  think  of  blaming  either  you  or  myself 
because  a  reckless,  headstrong  young  man  chooses  to  be  self- 
willed  and  take  his  own  way  in  defiance  of  every  one's  advice. 
No,  dearest,  I  am  not  quite  so  unjust  as  that.  But  of  course  I 
think  it  is  a  pity  that  he  should  upset  you  in  this  way.  I  was 
very  vexed  with  him;  but  I  am  bound  to  confess  that  my  dis- 

251 


252  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

approval  made  not  the  slightest  impression.  '  You  may  say  what 
you  like,  Aunt  Mary,'  he  remarked  coolly,  '  but  I  don't  repent 
a  single  word  I  said.'  Oh,  I  could  do  nothing  with  him.  He 
did  not  give  me  a  good  account  of  you,  Joan;  he  says  you  look 
pale  and  thin,  and  have  lost  your  appetite.  I  shall  be  thankful 
when  you  are  at  Revelstoke,  for  I  am  certain  that  the  air  of 
St.  Breda's  is  too  enervating  in  the  summer.  Now,  my  darling, 
I  want  you  to  put  all  thoughts  of  Craig's  visit  out  of  your  mind 
as  much  as  possible  until  we  can  talk  it  over  quietly  together. 
I  am  not  without  hope  that  I  may  be  able  to  arrange  a  meeting 
later  on.  At  present  I  cannot  get  away  from  Gilnockie,  but 
Lady  Merriton  is  making  such  good  progress  that  in  a  few  weeks 
I  trust  I  shall  be  no  longer  necessary  to  her.  At  the  present 
moment  I  am  afraid  to  make  any  definite  plans.  Now  the  car- 
riage is  coming  round,  and  I  must  put  on  my  bonnet.  God  bless 
you! — Your  loving  old  friend,  Mary  Boyle." 

There  was  only  one  piece  of  advice  in  Lady  Mary's 
letter  that  Joan  found  it  difficult  to  follow.  How  was 
she  to  put  Craig's  visit  out  of  her  mind,  when  from 
morning-  to  evening  she  could  think  of  nothing  else? 
It  was  an  undercurrent  of  sweetness  which  permeated 
her  daily  life.  "  You  may  say  what  you  like,  Aunt  Mary, 
but  I  do  not  repent  a  single  word  I  said."  Oh,  how 
perfect  he  was — what  an  ideal  lover! 

When  the  household  had  retired  to  rest  that  night, 
Silence  betook  herself  to  the  study.  Both  the  husband 
and  wife  looked  forward  to  this  quiet  time.  Silence  was 
in  her  white  dressing-gown.  She  had  made  her  rounds 
amongst  her  sleeping  children.  The  long  heavy  plaits 
of  hair  shone  in  the  lamplight;  the  soft  muslin  frills  and 
folds  always  suited  her. 

"  I  waited  until  Joan  went  upstairs,"  she  said.  "  She 
was  unusually  late,  so  I  went  to  the  children.  I  have 
been  longing  to  talk  to  you  all  the  evening." 

"  And  I  to  you,  love,"  returned  her  husband  tenderly. 
"  But  I  thought  perhaps  Joan  might  have  forestalled  me." 
But  Silence  shook  her  head. 

"  She  said  very  little,  but  of  course  I  saw  something 
had  happened."  Then  Heath  told  her  what  had  passed 
between  her  and  Craig  in  the  Cathedral. 

"  She  really  refused  him  again,  and  yet  any  one  can 


"  None  of  That,  Governor  "  253 

see  that  she  is  in  love  with  him!  "  and  Silence  spoke  in 
an  awed  voice.  "  Oh,  Heath,  how  can  she  have  the  hearc 
to  do  it?     In  her  place  I  could  not  have  done  it." 

"  She  is  ver\  plucky  and  she  has  a  strong  will.  But 
she  has  met  her  match,  my  dear.  Lord  Josselyn  does  not 
intend  to  give  in.  He  has  his  back  against  the  wall  and 
means  fighting.  He  told  me  so  very  plainly ;  in  fact,  he 
was  perfectly  frank  about  it.  '  I  have  given  in  to  my 
father  about  resigning  my  commission,'  he  went  on ;  '  but 
I  will  not  allow  either  him  or  my  mother  to  dictate  to  me 
in  the  choice  of  a  wife.  I  will  be  as  free  in  that  matter 
as  the  ploughman  on  my  father's  farm.'  " 

"  Oh,  Heath,  he  was  perfectly  right,  of  course.  But 
what  answer  did  you  give?  " 

"  I  cannot  remember  the  exact  words,  but  I  made  him 
understand  that  I  was  in  an  awkward  position,  and  that 
as  Joan's  brother,  I  could  say  nothing  to  encourage  him ; 
that  we  owed  Lady  Mary  a  debt  of  gratitude ;  and  that 
sheer  honesty  obliged  me  to  tell  him  that  he  was  very 
deficient  in  worldly  wisdom,  and  that  it  would  be  far  bet- 
ter for  him  to  take  his  family's  advice  and  marry  Lady 
Cicely  O'Brien." 

"You  actually  told  him  that?" 

"  Yes ;  but  I  saw  I  had  said  the  wrong  thing,  for  he 
flushed  and  drew  himself  up  quite  haughtily. 

'  It  is  a  pity  that  any  lady's  name  should  be  men- 
tioned,' he  observed.  '  When  T  have  an  opportunity,  I 
intend  telling  my  old  friend,  Lady  Cicely,  that  I  consider 
myself  engaged  to  Joan.  I  have  a  sincere  regard  for 
Lady  Cicely,  and  I  consider  that  my  mother  has  placed  us 
both  in  such  a  position  that  I  owe  her  this  explanation.'  " 

"  How  strong  he  is  to  stand  out  against  his  own 
people  like  this !  Do  you  think — do  you  really  think, 
Heath,  that  things  will  come  right  in  time?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear.  I  hardly  know  what  to  think,  more 
improbable  things  have  happened."  But  Silence  was 
sure  from  his  manner  that  he  was  not  entirely  hopeless. 
She  knew,  too,  what  he  had  already  acknowledged  to 
himself,  that  he  was  an  ambitious  man,  and  that  such 


254  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

a  marriage  would  have  added  greatly  to  his  sense  of  im- 
portance ;  and  though  his  conscience  forbade  him  to  speak 
a  word  of  encouragement  to  the  impetuous  young  lover, 
he  secretly  applauded  his  fidelity. 

"  It  is  not  because  he  is  heir  to  an  earldom  that  I 
think  Craig  Bastow  a  fine  fellow,"  he  observed  presently. 
"  Under  any  circumstances,  if  he  were  only  the  son  of  a 
simple  country  'squire,  I  should  be  thankful  that  Joan 
should  have  such  a  husband  " — and  this  was  high  praise 
from  Canon  Leigh.  And  then  he  closed  the  subject  a 
little  regretfully  by  saying  that  it  was  growing  very  late 
and  that  they  must  not  sit  up  talking  any  longer. 

Joan's  spirits  improved  wonderfully  from  that  day, 
and  she  set  about  making  preparation  for  their  flitting 
with  tolerable  zest,  helping  Silence  with  the  children's 
packing  and  taking  her  share  of  work. 

She  liked  Revelstoke,  quiet  little  place  as  it  was,  and 
the  house  was  delightfully  comfortable.  Only  a  little 
strip  of  green  lay  between  it  and  the  beach.  And  after 
their  late  dinner  it  was  very  enjoyable  to  wander  bare- 
headed to  the  edge  of  the  sea,  or  sit  on  the  shingle  in  the 
moonlight  and  listen  to  the  waves  lapping  softly  on  the 
pebbles.  Heath  always  devoted  himself  to  his  boys. 
They  generally  bathed  early,  and  then  walked  over  to 
Thurleigh  and  spent  their  mornings  boating  and  fishing. 
Silence  and  the  little  girls  sat  on  the  beach.  Joan  gener- 
ally gave  them  her  company.  Now  and  then,  when  the 
heat  was  great,  they  would  betake  themselves  to  the 
Castle  garden  and  sit  under  the  shady  trees  working  or 
reading. 

Joan  tried  hard  to  be  sociable.  Now  and  then  she 
had  a  restless  fit  and  went  off  by  herself,  but  Silenre 
never  took  any  notice.  In  the  afternoon  she  generally 
Avent  up  to  her  own  room.  It  had  a  wide  cheerful  win- 
dow overlooking  the  beach,  and  here  she  wrote  her  let- 
ters to  Lady  Mary  or  Dorothy,  or  dreamed  idly  until  the 
monotonous  plashing  of  the  waves  lulled  her  into  a  sound 
sleep,  which  always  seemed  to  refresh  her. 


"  None  of  That,  Governor  "  255 

One  morning  Joan  and  her  nieces  had  established 
themselves  cosily  under  a  breakwater.  Silence  was  pay- 
ing her  weekly  bills  and  intended  to  join  them  later  on. 
It  was  a  lovely  day.  There  had  been  rain  the  previous 
evening  which  had  tempered  the  intense  heat,  and  there 
was  a  refreshing  breeze  from  the  sea.  The  tide  was  com- 
ing in  and  the  soft  rhythmic  wash  of  the  waves  was  pleas- 
ant in  Joan's  ears,  and  her  work  lay  unheeded  in  her  lap 
as  she  watched  the  tiny  flecks  of  foam  on  the  horizon.  A 
boat  with  white  sails  seemed  to  glide  out  of  the  distance. 
Just  below  them  a  little  group  of  bare-legged  urchins 
were  building  a  stone  fortress.  A  small  Union  Jack  was 
fluttering  from  the  parapet,  with  half-a-dozen  tin  soldiers 
to  act  as  sentries. 

"  This  is  simply  perfect  weather,''  thought  Joan. 
Then  she  became  aware  of  an  extremely  familiar  figure 
coming  towards  them.  A  tall,  wiry-looking  man  in  a 
grey  summer  suit,  with  a  Panama  hat  drawn  over  a 
brown,  sunburnt  face,  and  closely  followed  by  a  huge, 
clumsy-footed  bulldog. 

Jess  uttered  a  joyful  exclamation.  "  Why,  there  is 
our  Mr.  Trafford,  Wanda !  "  she  cried,  running  to  meet 
him. 

Then  Dick  vaulted  over  the  breakwater,  leaving 
Dagon  to  scramble  over  as  he  best  could. 

"  The  domestic  told  me  I  should  find  the  young  ladies 
here,"  he  observed,  as  he  fanned  himself  with  his  Panama, 
"  and  that  her  mistress  had  gone  to  the  shops." 

"  Oh,  mother  will  be  here  presently,"  remarked  Jess. 
"  How  hot  you  and  Dagon  look,  Mr.  Trafford." 

"  That's  so,  Miss  Jess.  If  you  will  excuse  me  a 
moment,  I  will  do  a  little  deep  breathing  at  the  edge  of 
the  sea ;  my  lungs  are  atrophied  for  want  of  air." 

As  Jess  refused  to  leave  him,  they  all  three  went 
down  to  the  margin  of  the  sea,  while  the  other  two 
watched  them  with  much  amusement.  Jess's  adoration 
was  so  transparent.  Dick  might  snub  her  quietly  as 
much  as  he  liked,  but  she  remained  faithful. 


256  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  I  think  he  is  quite  the  nicest  man  next  to  father  I 
ever  saw,"  she  sail  once  quite  seriously  to  her  aunt,  and 
Joan  very  naughtily  repeated  this  speech  to  Dick. 

"  O  infancy,  how  blessed  is  thy  ignorance !  "  returned 
Dick,  with  a  prodigious  sigh.  "  Thank  you  for  telling 
me,  Miss  Leigh ;  compliments  have  been  as  rare  as  angels 
visits  in  my  well-conducted  and  lonely  existence,  an  i  I 
will  lay  up  the  speech  in  lavender  and  attar  of  roses." 

Dick  came  back  to  them  looking  much  refreshed,  and 
placed  himself  between  Joan  and  Wanda,  while  Dagon 
selected  a  sandy  bit  of  shingle,  where  he  curled  himself 
up  with  his  head  on  Joan's  dress — a  proceeding  which 
Rascal  evidently  regarded  as  a  liberty,  though,  after  a 
war-whoop  or  two,  he  decided  not  to  engage  in  single 
combat  with  the  unmannerly  brute.  So  he  sat  in  surly 
jealousy  on  Joan's  frock  on  the  other  side,  while  Dagon 
winked  at  him  lazily. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  a  piece  of  news,  ladies," 
observed  Dick,  as  he  sent  a  round  and  exceedingly  smoot'i 
pebble  spinning  through  his  fingers.  "  I  am  leaving 
my  P.P.C.  card  to-day.  Dagon  and  I  make  tracks  to- 
morrow. Enough  is  as  good  as  a  feast,  so  they  say, 
and  I  am  sure  my  Aunt  Felicia  has  had  enough  of  our 
company." 

"  You  are  going  away — oh,  Mr.  Trafford !  "  And 
Jess  laid  a  confiding  but  slightly  grimy  hand  ora  the  grey 
coat-sleeve. 

"  Yes.  I  am  going  away,  but  not  where  fancy  leads 
me.  My  mate  and  I  have  fallen  out  on  that  subject — 
as  the  best  of  friends  will  sometimes."  And  here  Dick 
looked  at  his  favourite  severely.  "  Dagon  and  his  mas- 
ter are  at  loggerheads  for  onee." 

"What  do  you  mean.  Mr.  Trafford?"  asked  Wanda 
curiously,  looking  up  from  her  sketching-block. 

"  Well,  I  will  explain  matters,"  returned  Dick  with 
cheerful  alacrity.  "  I  wanted  to  go  to  Japan,  and  prob- 
ablv  to  Thibet,  but  my  mate  yeteod  my  plan  so  sternly 
that  I  was  obliged  to  relinquish  it. 

"  '  None  of  that,  governor !  '  he  returned ;  '  the  long 


"  None  of  That,  Governor  "  257 

voyage  would  not  suit  my  constitution  at  all.  I  should 
be  breaking-  my  heart  at  one  end  of  the  vessel  while 
my  lawful  master,  who  promised  to  be  faithful  until 
death,  us  do  part,  smoked  endless  pipes  at  the  other.'  " 

"  Mr.  Trafford,"  exclaimed  Jess  in  an  extremely 
shocked  voice,  "  how  can  you  tell  us  all  that  nonsense ! 
Aunt  Joan  is  laughing,  but  I  do  not  consider  it  in  the 
least  amusing,  for  only  babies  think  that  dogs  can  talk." 

"  You  are  wrong,  Miss  Jess,"  returned  Dick  with  un- 
usual energy ;  "  dogs  have  a  language  of  their  own, 
though  few  of  their  human  friends  understand  them  as 
I  do.  I  know  exactly  Dagon's  views  on  most  subjects, 
and  I  am  only  translating  them  into  English  for  the 
benefit  of  my  hearers." 

"  Oh,  I  see  " ;  but  Jess  did  not  look  quite  convinced. 

"  Let  me  prove  the  truth  of  my  words.  Dagon,  old 
fellow,  you  are  only  sleeping  with  one  eye  open,  so  just 
answer  me  one  question.  Did  you  not  insist  that  your 
master  should  give  up  the  idea  of  going  to  Japan  ?  " 
Then,  at  the  word  "  Japan,"  Dagon  uncurled  himself 
and  his  prominent  eyes  were  fixed  uneasily  on  Dick's 
face. 

"  Come,  out  with  it !  You  did  not  like  the  Japs,  you 
said  ?  "  Then  Dagon  uttered  a  low  and  despondent  growl 
which  seemed  to  alarm  Rascal. 

"  All  right,  old  chap,  we  are  not  going,  so  you  may 
as  well  finish  your  nap."  Then  Dagon,  with  a  satisfied 
"  crhimp,"  laid  his  heavy  head  again  on  Joan's  blue 
carr.bric. 

"  He  certainly  did  seem  to  understand,"  she  observed : 
"  but  what  a  pity  that  your  nice  plan  should  be  spoiled." 

"  Oh,  I  am  always  a  martyr  to  my  duty,"  returned 
Dick  complacently ;  "  that  is  why  I  have  such  a  clear 
conscience  and  good  digestion.  My  mate  and  I  are 
goinc:  to  the  Highlands.  A  man  I  once  knew  in  Canada 
has  a  berth  as  keeper,  and  as  he  has  a  decent  little  shanty 
with  plenty  of  room  in  it,  he  has  offered  to  put  us  up.  I 
expect  I  shall  make  my  way  to  the  Orkneys  and  Shet- 
land." 

17 


258  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  That  sounds  quite  a  nice  plan,"  observed  Joan. 
"  But  I  think  Wanda  is  waiting  to  say  something."  Then 
Wanda  blushed  a  little  shyly. 

"  Oh,  it  was  Jessica's  thought,  not  mine;  but  I  should 
be  very  willing  too,  if  only  mother  and  father  don't  mind 
Jess  wondered  if  you  would  like  to  leave  Dagon  with 
us  while  you  went  to  Japan,  Mr.  Trafford.  We  would 
try  and  make  him  happy,  and  take  such  care  of  him.  And 
then  you  would  be  free  to  do  as  you  like."  But  as  Wanda 
said  this  very  prettily,  the  grateful  look  in  Dick's  eyes 
rather  surprised  her. 

;<  Thank  you,  Miss  Wanda;  that  was  spoken  like  a 
true  friend — I  won't  forget  that  in  a  hurry.  But  I 
dare  not  accept  your  generous  offer." 

"Why  not,  Mr.  Trafford?" 

"  Simply  because  I  should  find  my  mate  had  broken 
his  heart  at  my  desertion  and  was  in  his  grave,  over 
which  his  ungrateful  master  would  shed  bitter  tears  of 
self-reproach.  But  thank  you — thank  you  all  the  same. 
Ah,  here  comes  my  lady  hostess!"  And  Dick  jumped 
up  from  his  recumbent  position  and  assisted  Silence 
over  the  breakwater. 

Dick  spent  what  he  called  a  happy  day,  and  went 
back  by  a  late  evening  train,  the  boys  and  Jess  accom- 
panying him  to  the  station.  That  night,  when  Dick 
found  himself  alone  with  Felicia,  he  said  to  her  in  his 
abrupt  way : 

"  Aunt  Felicia,  you  have  always  been  a  good  friend 
to  your  unworthy  nephew — will  it  interest  you  to  know 
that  I  have  discovered  my  orphan?" 

"Oh,  not  really,  Dick!" 

"Yes.  honest  Injun;  she  is  all  my  fancy  painted  her 
and  a  little  over.  But  the  only  trouble  is  she  is  not  an 
orphan."  And  with  this  enigmatical  remark  Dick 
giavely  bade  her  good-night  and  went  off,  leaving  her, 
as  usual,  in  some  perplexity  as  to  his  meaning. 

"  One  never  knows  whether  Dick  is  in  earnest  about 
anything,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  put  aside  her  work 
and  extinguished  the  lamp. 


XXXI 

THE  LAST  DAY  AT  REVELSTOKE 

And  when  on  the  pathway  I  faltered, 

And  when  I  rebelled  at  my  fate, 
The  voice,  with  assurance  unaltered, 

Again  spoke  one  syllable,  "  Wait !  " 

The  road  to  the  beautiful  regions 
Lies  ever  through  Duty's  hard  way. 

Oh,  ye  who  go  searching  in  legions, 
Know  this,  and  be  patient  to-day. 

Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 

One  lovely  September  morning-  Joan  was  busily  en- 
gaged packing  up  her  personal  effects  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible, that  she  might  be  free  to  help  Silence  and  the 
young  people.  The  boys'  holidays  were  nearly  over,  and 
they  were  leaving  Revelstoke  the  next  day,  much  to  every 
one's  regret. 

The  change  had  done  Joan  a  world  of  good.  The 
quiet  freedom  of  their  seaside  life,  with  its  absence  of 
restraint  and  routine,  had  just  suited  her.  Her  nerves 
had  recovered  their  tone;  she  was  no  longer  languid 
and  listless,  and  she  woke  each  morning  to  a  sense  of 
renewed  hope  and  enjoyment,  to  which  she  had  been 
long  a  stranger. 

Something  was  always  happening.  Who  could  tell 
what  the  day  would  bring  forth?  Anyhow,  the  sun  was 
shining,  the  waves  lapping  on  the  shore,  the  glorious 
pageantry  of  life  was  daily  enacted  before  her  eyes.  In 
spite  of  sin  and  pain  and  aching  hearts,  and  all  the  follies 
and  mistakes  of  grown-up  children,  what  a  beautiful 
old  world  it  was !  And  she  was  young,  and,  miracle  of 
miracles,  she  loved  and  was  beloved!  Surely  this  was 
enough  for  the  present.  Craig  no  longer  misunderstood 
her — she  could  trust  him,  and  for  the  rest — "  He  holds 

S59 


260  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

the  key  of  all  unknown,"  Joan  whispered  reverently  to 
herself.  "  One  can  only  wait  and  pray  and  hope  that 
the  way  may  open." 

Joan  worked  with  a  will  that  morning.  She  even 
sang-  under  her  breath  as  she  folded  her  dresses,  when  a 
knock  at  her  door  startled  her,  and  the  parlour-maid 
brought  her  a  letter.  To  her  surprise  she  saw  it  was 
from  Gilnockie. 

Another  letter  from  Lady  Mary !  This  was  quite 
unexpected.  Joan  had  heard  from  her  only  two  days 
ago.  Surely  Lady  Merriton  could  not  be  ill  again,  she 
had  been  so  well  when  Lady  Mary  last  wrote.  A  vague 
sense  of  uneasiness  made  the  girl  hesitate  to  open  the 
envelope.  The  enclosure  was  thick  too,  quite  a  long 
letter. 

"  Oh,  what  a  goose  I  am,"  thought  Joan ;  "  but  I 
felt  so  cheerful  this  morning,  and "  here  Joan  re- 
fused to  listen  to  any  more  nervous  fancies,  and  resolutely 
opened  her  letter.  But  she  gave  a  little  exclamation  of 
pleasure  as  she  read  the  opening  sentences : — 

"  I  know  you  will  be  surprised  to  hear  from  me  so  soon  again, 
dear  child,  but  our  plans  are  all  settled  now,  and  I  have  much  to 
tell  you  which  I  know  will  interest  you. 

"Craig  has  just  come  back  from  Templeton.  He  seems  to 
have  been  very  much  pleased  with  his  visit.  He  and  his  uncle 
got  on  famously  together,  and  he  begged  me  to  tell  you  when  I 
next  wrote  how  glad  he  was  that  he  took  your  advice,  as  Lord 
Templeton  had  been  most  helpful  and  sympathetic.  There,  for 
once,  dearest,  I  have  broken  my  rule  and  given  you  Craig's 
message.  But  I  know  you  will  neither  of  you  take  advantage  of 
me,  and  I  am  so  pleased  that  you  advised  him  to  go  to  Temple- 
ton. It  has  done  no  end  of  good  all  round.  That  unfortunate 
little  misunderstanding,  for  which  poor  Josselyn  was  to  blame, 
is  put  right  now,  and  both  Lady  Templeton  and  her  husband 
have  written  in  the  kindest  and  most  affectionate  manner. 

"  To  make  a  long  story  short,  our  time  at  Gilnockie  will  be 
up  on  Tuesday,  and  as  the  doctors  do  not  wish  Lady  Merriton 
to  return  home  yet,  it  is  arranged  that  she  and  Dorothy  are  to 
go  to  Templeton  for  a  long  visit.  Craig  is  to  be  their  escort, 
but  will  only  remain  two  or  three  days,  as  he  has  a  number  of 
visits  to  pay.     He  is  going  first  to  Scotland. 

■  My  brother  and  I  are  to  leave  for  Brantwood  on  Wednes- 


The  Last  Day  at  Revelstoke  261 

day  morning.  He  is  to  be  my  guest  at  Morningside  for  a  week. 
Can  you  not  imagine  how  delightful  that  will  be  for  me,  Joan? 
les,  how  could  the  poor  dear  man  be  left  all  his  lone  at  the 
Abbey?  I  should  have  had  to  go  to  him  there,  and  I  am  so 
longing  for  my  own  dear  little  home  ! 

"  And  now,  my  darling,  I  am  coming  to  the  best  part  of  my 
letter.  My  brother  will  only  stay  a  week,  and  then  he  will  join 
the  others  at  Templeton.  I  expect  he  will  come  backwards  and 
forwards,  as  there  is  a  good  deal  to  look  after ;  but  as  he  will 
remain  three  or  four  days  at  a  time,  he  would  prefer  to  stay 
at  the  Abbey,  though,  of  course,  I  shall  not  allow  him  to  be 
alone  in  the  evenings. 

"  And  now,  my  dearest  child,  you  must  come  to  me  the  very 
day  my  brother  leaves  me.  There  is  no  reason  in  the  world 
why  we  should  not  be  together  and  enjoy  each  other's  company 
for  a  whole  month  " — here  Joan  gave  a  little  incredulous  gasp  of 
delight.  "  It  might  even  be  longer,  for  we  are  all  so  anxious  to 
keep  Lady  Merriton  away  from  the  Abbey  until  she  is  quite 
strong  again,  and  the  Templetons  are  desirous  of  having  her 
and  Dorothy  for  as  long  as  possible.  But  perhaps  we  must  not 
build  on  that  uncertainty — still,  we  can  be  sure  of  a  month.  I 
wish  I  could  see  your  face,  darling,  when  you  read  this.  I  do 
not  think  you  will  refuse  my  invitation.  Tell  Heath  I  must 
have  you  for  all  October,  but  that  I  will  send  you  back  to  him. 
There,  I  must  not  write  on.     Good-bye  until  our  next  meeting." 

How  was  Joan  to  finish  her  packing  when  she  had 
to  read  and  re-read  this  delightful  letter !  Besides,  she 
must  answer  it  at  once.  What  matter  if  bed  and  table 
and  floor  were  strewn  with  garments,  the  window-seat 
was  free,  and  she  could  scribble  hasty,  disjointed  sen- 
tences which  spoke  of  heart  gladness  in  every  line ! 

"  To  be  back  with  you  at  dear  Morningside  for  a  whole 
month,  dear,  dearest  Lady  Mary,  I  can  hardly  believe  it  yet, 
though  I  have  read  your  letter  three  times.  But  it  seems  too 
good  to  be  realised.  Only  ten  days  and  we  shall  be  together  " — 
and  so  on. 

"  My  dear  Joan,"  it  was  Silence's  voice  that  roused 
her — a  tired,  heated  Silence,  who  looked  round  at  the 
chaos  with  reproachful  eyes.  "  How  startled  you  look ! 
Did  you  not  hear  my  knock?  I  have  just  finished  the 
boys'  things,  with  Prescott's  help ;  but  you  don't  seem 
to  have  begun  yours,  and  I  was  wondering  if  you  had 
gone  out." 


262  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  No,  but  I  was  interrupted,  and  I  meant  to  have 
helped  you  so  much !  I  am  sorry,  Silence.  Never  mind 
my  things,  I  will  finish  in  the  afternoon.  Come  and  sit 
down  while  I  tell  you  something-  delightful."  And,  as 
Silence  amiably  complied  with  this  request,  Joan  unfolded 
her  story. 

Silence  was  not  too  tired  to  sympathise.  "  I  am  very 
glad,  Joan  dear,"  she  said  gently,  "  that  will  be  a  great 
pleasure  both  for  you  and  Lady  Mary;  and  I  am  quite 
sure  Heath  will  approve,  especially  as  you  are  to  come 
back  to  us  again." 

Silence's  kind  voice  touched  Joan.  "  It  is  nice  of  you 
to  say  that.  You  are  sure  that  you  are  not  tired  of  me 
by  this  time  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure,"  returned  Silence,  smiling,  "  though  I 
never  thought  to  say  that.  We  seem  to  get  on  so  much 
better  now,  Joan,  and  besides  I  have  been  so  sorry  for 
you." 

"  You  have  been  very  good  to  me,  both  you  and 
Heath,  returned  the  girl  gravely.  "  But  I  know  I  have 
often  been  extremely  trying." 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear,  you  must  not  say  that.  You  are 
hardly  ever  impatient  and  satirical  now,  and  when  you 
are  I  can  make  allowances  because  you  have  so  much 
to  trouble  you." 

"  But  trouble  ought  not  to  make  us  selfish  and  horrid 
to  other  people,  Silence." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  often  does,  Joan.  But  there  is  the 
lunch-bell,  and  we  must  go  down."  But  a  warm  sisterly 
kiss  passed  between  them  before  they  went  downstairs 
arm-in-arm. 

It  was  natural  that  Joan's  sparkling  eyes  and  flushed 
cheeks  should  excite  comment ;  but  though  Canon  Leigh 
was  evidently  pleased  with  Lady  Mary's  invitation,  there 
were  dismayed  exclamations  from  Wanda.  '  There's  an 
end  of  our  half-holiday  sketching  expeditions." 

"  Must  you  stay  quite  so  long,  Jo,  dear?  "  in  a  coaxing 
voice  from  Jess. 


The  Last  Day  at  Revelstoke  263 

"  Jess,  Jess,"  observed  her  mother  in  a  reproving 
tone,  "  have  you  forgotten  that  I  told  you  that  aunts 
must  always  be  treated  with  respect?  "' 

"  Don't  I  respect  you,  Jo,  dear  ? "  continued  Jess 
sweetly.  "  Mummie,  you  are  not  to  be  cross  the  last 
day.  Aunt  Joan  told  me  herself  that  she  did  not  mind 
my  calling  her  Jo!  " 

"  I  think  I  said  Aunt  Jo,  Bill." 

"  Well,  Aunt  Jo,  then.  I  don't  believe,  when  I  am 
quite  grown  up  and  have  nephews  and  nieces  of  my 
own,  that  I  shall  be  so  fussy  with  them.  They  may 
call  me  Bill  or  little  Billie,  or  even  William  if  they  like ; 
when  I  am  an  old,  old  lady  they  may  call  me  Aunt 
Jessica." 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Bill !  "  observed  Vere  impatiently ;  "  no 
one  can  get  in  a  word  edgeways  while  you  are  yapping 
like  Rascal  at  a  rabbit-hole.  Father,  Frank  and  I  want 
you  to  come  with  us  for  a  row,  it  is  such  a  glorious 
afternoon." 

"  Ale  too,"  observed  Noel  anxiously.  "  Vere,  you 
won't  leave  me  behind?  " 

"  All  right,  little  'un."  And  then  magnanimously — 
"  We  might  take  Bill  too,  if  she  will  promise  to  sit  still 
and  hold  her  tongue." 

"  Oh,  Vere,  may  I  steer  ?  "  exclaimed  Jess  eagerly. 
"  I  did  last  time,  and  father  said  he  could  not  have 
done  better  himself." 

Here  Canon  Leigh  put  up  his  hand  for  silence.  "  I 
don't  see  any  reason  why  your  parents  and  Aunt  Joan 
should  be  deafened,  even  if  it  is  the  last  day,"  he  ob- 
served drily ;  "  and  as  I  wish  to  enjoy  this  excellent 
mutton,  I  must  insist  that  the  strife  of  tongues  shall 
cease  until  the  meal  is  over.  I  have  no  objection  to 
your  plan,  Vere,  as  long  as  you  do  not  ask  me  to  exert 
myself.  You  and  Frankie  can  catch  as  many  crabs  as 
you  like,  and  Jess  shall  steer  if  she  promises  to  behave 
herself ;  and  what  will  Wanda  do  ?  "  and  Heath  looked 
lovingly  at  his  quiet  little  daughter. 


264  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Oh,  I  shall  help  Aunt  Joan  finish  her  packing,  and 
then  we  shall  sit  in  the  Castle  garden  until  you  all  come 
back."     And  this  programme  was  carried  out. 

Later  that  evening  they  all  strolled  down  to  the  beach. 
The  children,  who  were  in  wild  spirits,  were  amusing 
themselves  at  the  margin  of  the  sea,  while  Silence  and 
Wanda  walked  up  and  down  the  narrow  strip  of  sand 
watching  them.  Canon  Leigh,  who  was  a  little  tired 
from  his  boating  expedition,  had  joined  his  sister.  It 
was  one  of  those  soft,  mellow  September  evenings  which 
seem  so  calm  and  peaceful.  The  sun  had  set,  and 
although  there  was  still  a  streak  of  crimson  on  the  hori- 
zon, the  receding  tide  looked  grey  and  colourless.  Joan, 
who  had  taken  off  her  hat  to  enjoy  the  fresh  sweet  breeze, 
was  looking  dreamily  out  to  sea. 

.  "  I  won't  say  '  a  penny  for  your  thoughts,'  my  dear," 
observed  her  brother  in  an  amused  tone,  "  for  I  know 
quite  well  they  are  at  Morningside." 

Then  Joan  roused  herself  from  her  abstraction,  but 
her  face  was  unusually  grave. 

"  You  are  wrong,  dear.  That  moment  when  you 
spoke  to  me  I  was  remembering  my  sins.  Do  you  know," 
speaking  a  little  fast  and  nervously,  "  there  is  something 
I  want  to  say  to  you.  These  last  few  months  have 
taught  me  much.  I  know  now  that  it  was  all  my  fault 
that  Silence  and  I  did  not  understand  each  other  better." 

"  My  dear  child,  why  rake  up  past  troubles  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  this,"  she  replied 
seriously.  "  How  often  you  have  told  us  in  your  ser- 
mons that  confession  is  salutary,  but  T  was  far  too  proud 
to  acknowledge  my  errors.  Heath,  I  don't  know  why, 
but  I  seem  to  realise  things  so  much  more  clearly.  T 
see  now  how  trying  and  provoking  I  often  was  to 
Silence,  and  all  the  time  she  bore  it  so  patiently  and 
never  said  a  hard  word  to  me." 

"  She  was  always  very  fond  of  you,  Joan,  although 
she  failed  to  understand  you.  My  dear,  I  am  glad,  very 
glad  you  have  told  me  this ;  but  I  do  not  want  you  to 


The  Last  Day  at  Revelstoke  265 

be  hard  on  yourself.  I  wonder  if  you  have  any  idea 
what  a  real  help  and  comfort  you  have  been  to  Silence 
this  summer  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no — not  really,  Heath !  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  really  and  truly ;  she  has  told  me 
so  herself.  Don't  you  remember  our  first  dinner-party 
and  how  grateful  she  was  for  your  help?  And  in  a 
dozen  other  ways  you  have  done  her  good.  My  dear 
wife's  shyness  is  a  temperamental  difficulty  that  we  can 
hardly  expect  to  overcome,  but  I  can  see  some  improve- 
ment. Did  you  not  notice  how  she  talked  to  Lord 
Josselyn  that  day  you  brought  him  in  to  luncheon?  and 
a  tea-party  in  the  Precincts  is  not  nearly  such  an  infliction 
as  it  used  to  be." 

Joan  smiled  more  cheerfully. 

"  Oh,  I  am  glad  you  think  I  have  done  some  good. 
Indeed,  Heath,  I  am  far  more  fond  of  Silence  than  I 
ever  thought  I  should  be,  and  I  hope  when  I  come  back 
at  the  end  of  October  that  I  shall  be  some  real  comfort 
to  you  both."  Then  Heath  patted  the  little  brown  hand 
very  kindly. 

"  You  will  have  a  warm  welcome  when  you  do  come 
back,  my  dear,"  he  said  affectionately.  "  Now  I  must 
go  and  send  those  youngsters  indoors." 

Joan  sat  still  with  her  hands  clasped  on  her  knees. 
It  was  growing  dark  now,  but  the  moon  would  soon  be 
rising.     A  star  was  twinkling  over  the  dark  water. 

Joan  felt  at  peace  with  herself  and  the  world.  She 
had  made  her  little  confession  to  Heath  and  taken  her 
fair  share  of  blame.  Now  her  conscience  was  clear. 
Heath  was  pleased  with  her ;  she  was  no  longer  a  dis- 
turbing element  in  the  household.  A  comforting  sense 
of  brotherhood  and  well-being  stole  over  her;  perhaps, 
after  all,  she  had  not  done  so  badly  this  summer.  "  Lady 
Mary  will  be  glad  when  I  tell  her — she  always  took 
Silence's  part  and  thought  I  was  hard  on  her.  Dear 
Lady  Mary,  she  is  a  born  peacemaker."  And  then 
Joan  gave  herself  up  to  blissful  anticipations  of  her 
visit. 


XXXII 

"GOLDEN  OCTOBER" 

The  larches'  hair  is  golden  now, 
They  stand  in  groves  of  springing  flame; 

Behind  them,  dark  in  leaf  or  bough, 
The  fir  woods  stretch  their  mighty  frame. 

Ah  yes !  this  rich  autumnal  gold 

Is  only  sunshine  in  decay; 
But  age,  forlorn  and  sad  and  cold, 

The  porch  of  life,  the  gate  of  day ! 

London  Spectator. 

It  was  quite  early  on  a  lovely  autumnal  afternoon 
when  Joan  came  out  of  the  station  at  Atherton,  where 
Lady  Mary's  barouche  and  pair  of  beautiful  chestnut 
horses  were  awaiting  her.  Joan  was  quite  aware  that 
she  was  not  to  be  met.  Lady  Mary  had  told  her  in 
her  last  note  that  ske  would  prefer  receiving  her  at 
Morningside,  and  Joan  had  not  been  the  least  disap- 
pointed. The  solitary  drive  was  full  of  pleasure  to  her, 
as  her  eyes  traced  each  familiar  landmark.  How  sweet 
and  fragrant  the  air  was!  The  hop-fields  were  bare, 
but  somewhere  they  were  burning  weeds,  and  the  strong, 
pungent  odour  seemed  delightful  to  her. 

Ah,  the  road  was  dipping  down  now  and  the  trees 
were  nearly  meeting  overhead — they  were  entering  the 
Brantwood  copses.  How  still  and  peaceful  they  looked 
in  the  mild  sunshine  of  the  October  afternoon — "  golden 
October  "  as  Lady  Mary  often  called  it !  Some  of  the 
trees  were  still  green,  but  in  less  sheltered  nooks  the 
blending  of  pale  yellowish  and  russet  tints  with  brown 
and  faded  crimson  made  the  woodlands  a  glory  of 
colouring ;  and  on  the  pathway  lay  heaps  of  fallen  leaves, 
which  rustled  crisply  under  the  feet  of  the  passer-by.  Ah, 
there  was   the  littie   gate  which  led  to  her   favourite 

266 


"Golden  October"  267 

copse,  where  she  and  Rascal  had  spent  that  long,  sor- 
rowful morning.  Why,  even  Rascal  seemed  to  recognise 
it,  for  his  little  white  body  quivered  with  excitement 
as  he  sat  beside  her  in  the  carriage. 

"  Hush,  Rascal,  surely  that  is  a  robin's  note !  This 
is  the  robin's  month,  I  know."  And  Joan  softly  repeated 
to  herself  fragments  of  those  beautiful  lines  in  the 
Christian  Year: — 

Unheard  in  summer's  flaring  ray, 

Pour  forth  thy  notes,  sweet  singer, 
Wooing  the  stillness  of  the  autumn  day. 

And  again : 

But  none  so  blends, 
As  thine 
With   calm   decay,   and  peace   divine. 

Joan's  heart  beat  faster  now.  In  another  minute  they 
would  reach  the  gate  leading  to  Brantwood  Abbey.  Ah, 
there  on  her  left  hand  was  the  view  she  loved  so  well — 
the  sunny  water-meadows,  with  the  stream  and  mill, 
and  small  rustic  bridge,  the  sleepy  cattle,  and  background 
of  red-boled  Scotch  firs,  their  bluish-green  foliage  con- 
trasting with  the  fading  yellow  of  the  elms. 

Joan  bent  forward  eagerly  as  they  turned  the  corner. 
Yes,  there  was  Morningside,  with  its  stables  and  garden 
wall,  one  crimson  glory  from  the  Virginian  creeper  that 
covered  them.  On  the  house  itself,  only  a  few  late 
roses  still  bloomed.  But  from  the  archway  that  led  to 
the  garden  there  hung  blood-red  persimmons  in  ragged 
festoons,  which  seemed  to  feast  the  eyes  with  their  glow- 
ing loveliness.  As  the  carriage  turned  in  at  the  gate, 
Lady  Mary's  tall  figure  appeared  in  the  porch,  and  the 
next  moment  Joan  had  sprung  to  the  ground  and  was 
folded  in  her  arms. 

"  Welcome  home,  my  darling !  "  said  the  low  fond 
tones  that  had  been  unheard  so  long.  But  a  little  choking 
sensation  in  the  girl's  throat  prevented  her  from  answer- 
ing.   Had  she  only  been  away  five  months ! — five  months 


268  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

of  heart-  and  home-sickness.  It  seemed  at  least  a  year, 
but  the  sweetness  of  this  moment  made  up  for  much. 

"  Come  into  the  drawing-room,  dearest,  while  they 
bring  in  your  luggage."  Lady  Mary's  caressing  hand 
still  rested  on  Joan's  arm.  As  she  moved,  that  faint 
familiar  fragrance,  like  far-off  roses,  which  always  per- 
vaded Lady  Mary's  laces  came  in  a  delicious  whiff  to 
the  girl.  Lady  Mary  had  an  old-fashioned  passion  for 
attar  of  roses,  and  Joan  had  always  loved  it  for  her 
sake. 

"Oh,  the  dear  room!"  she  exclaimed  joyfully;  "I 
think  it  looks  lovelier  than  ever.  But  I  miss  poor  old 
Cocker  dreadfully."  For  Lady  Mary's  old  favourite  had 
died  peacefully  during  his  mistress's  absence,  of  extreme 
old  age,  and  a  small  tombstone  in  the  kitchen  garden 
recorded  his  age  and  virtues.  After  tea  Joan  took  Rascal 
to  visit  it. 

Lady  Mary  shook  her  head  with  a  sigh  at  the  men- 
tion of  Cocker.  "  The  house  felt  so  empty  without  him 
and  you,  Joan,"  she  returned  sadly.  "  When  the  door 
opened,  I  did  so  miss  his  wheezy  bark.  If  my  brother 
had  not  been  with  me,  I  don't  know  how  I  should  have 
got  through  the  first  evening,  but  of  course  I  had  to 
exert  myself  for  his  sake.  I  do  not  think,"  she  con- 
tinued thoughtfully,  "  that  it  is  wrong  to  grieve  for  a 
dumb  creature  who  has  been  a  faithful  friend  for  six- 
teen years.  He  was  quite  a  young  dog  when  my  dear 
Sir  Martin  brought  him  to  Roskil  Priory,  and  I  loved 
him  from  the  first  moment.  He  was  almost  as  playful 
as  your  little  Rascal,  but  more  gentle.  Ah,  well !  we 
will  not  talk  of  Cocker  this  evening."  But  Lady  Mary 
sighed  again  as  Joan  kissed  her,  for  the  loss  of  her 
favourite  had  been  a  sore  grief. 

Willis's  entrance  with  the  tea  made  a  diversion, 
and  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Joan  in  her  old  place  at  the 
tea-tray  banished  all  melancholy  reflections.  Lady  Mary 
smiled  happily  when  Joan,  disdaining  the  very  notion  of 
fatigue,  waited  on  her  in  her  old  way.     She  could  have 


"Golden  October"  269 

fancied  that  her  tea  that  afternoon  had  a  better  flavour 
because  Joan  had  poured  it  out. 

'"  You  are  looking  so  well,  dear  child,"  she  observed. 
"  Revelstoke  has  certainly  done  you  good,  for  I  had 
rather  poor  accounts  of  you."  Then  Joan  coloured,  for 
she  knew  who  had  been  Lady  Mary's  informant. 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  can  return  the  compli- 
ment," she  replied,  with  a  reproving  shake  of  the  head. 
"  The  strain  and  worry  of  those  weeks  at  Gilnockie 
have  been  too  much  for  you."  And  Lady  Mary  could 
not  honestly  deny  this. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  able  to  rest  now,"  she  observed 
hastily. 

Joan  felt  vaguely  dissatisfied  with  her  friend's  ap- 
pearance. Lady  Mary  looked  far  more  worn  and  weary 
than  she  had  ever  seen  her.  She  had  never  yet  appeared 
her  age,  but  now  there  were  faint  lines  under  the  sweet, 
tired  eyes,  and  the  hair  seemed  greyer,  though  the  little 
point  lace  Mary  Stuart  caps  which  Lady  Mary  usually 
wore  somewhat  concealed  this.  But  what  distressed  Joan 
most  was  to  see  how  loose  the  sapphire  and  diamond 
rings  were  on  the  slender  fingers.  Lady  Mary  had 
beautiful  hands  and  was  quite  aware  of  the  fact.  It 
was  one  of  her  innocent  vanities  to  enhance  their  beauty 
by  ruffles  of  priceless  lace.  A  faint,  delicate  flush  came 
to  her  face  as  Joan  mutely  pointed  to  them. 

"  Now,  Joan,  don't  begin  worrying  yourself  about 
such  trifles,"  and  Lady  Mary  spoke  with  an  assumption 
of  playfulness.  "  What  does  it  matter  if  I  am  a  little 
thinner?  No,  I  don't  deny  it;  besides  Dunlop  never 
lets  me  forget  it  for  a  day.  But  you  see,  in  spite  of 
the  excellent  sea  air  and  daily  drives,  life  at  Gilnockie 
was  a  little  wearing." 

"  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  that !  "  returned  Joan 
in  a  distressed  tone.  "  All  these  months  I  have  been 
anxious  about  you.  Your  headaches  were  more  frequent, 
Dorothy  told  me  so;  and  I  knew  they  were  all  tiring 
you  out." 


270  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  No,  no,  darling,  you  must  not  exaggerate.  They 
were  all  so  good  to  me — Dorothy  was  quite  devoted — 
but  while  Lady  Merriton  was  in  that  nervous  condition 
none  of  us  had  much  rest." 

"  Yes,  but  the  strain  fell  principally  on  you.  Oh, 
I  know  all  about  it.  You  sent  Dorothy  out  day  after 
day,  and  took  her  share  of  attendance  on  the  invalid  as 
well  as  your  own.  It  was  just  like  your  unselfishness, 
and  now  you  are  suffering  from  the  strain."  But  though 
Lady  Mary  could  not  contradict  this,  she  was  anxious 
to  remove  Joan's  uneasiness. 

"  You  know,  my  dear,"  she  returned  cheerfully, 
"  when  people  are  not  young  they  soon  show  signs  of 
strain  and  fatigue ;  and  you  remember  that  I  shall  be 
fifty-six  this  month." 

"  What  of  that,"  indignantly,  "  when  every  one  says 
you  look  ten  or  fifteen  years  younger !  " 

"  You  have  not  let  me  finish  my  sentence,  naughty 
child !  When  life  is  peaceful,  and  there  are  no  frets 
and  troubles,  people  often  look  younger  than  their  actual 
age;  but  with  prolonged  worry  or  fatigue,  or  wearing 
troubles — and  we  have  had  all  this  for  months — one 
needs  the  elasticity  of  youth  and  its  powers  of  recupera- 
tion. I  feel  a  little  tired  and  old,  that  is  all."  But  to 
Lady  Mary's  surprise  there  were  actual  tears  in  the 
girl's  eyes. 

"  How  am  I  ever  to  leave  you  again,  when  you  need 
me  so !  "  she  murmured.  Then  Lady  Mary  smoothed 
her  hair  caressingly. 

"  Hush,  Joan,  we  won't  cross  the  bridge  before  we 
come  to  it !  We  are  going  to  be  very  happy,  you  and 
I,  for  four  weeks,  and  not  worry  ourselves  about  the 
future." 

"And  you  will  get  better  and  stronger?" 

"  Of  course  I  shall ;  and  you  must  help  me  by  letting 
me  see  your  dear  face  look  bright  again.  How  we  shall 
enjoy  our  evenings,  Joan.  And,  in  spite  of  our  long 
letters,  how  much  we  shall  have  to  tell  each  other  about 


"  Golden  October  "  271 

Gilnockie  and  St.  Breda's  Lodge !  Now,  I  expect  Dunlop 
will  have  unpacked  your  things.  Would  you  like  to 
go  up  to  your  room  now,  or  wait  for  the  dressing-bell?  " 

"  1  would  rather  wait,  if  you  do  not  mind.  But  I 
am  not  going  to  talk  to  you  any  more  just  now;  Rascal 
and  I  are  going  to  explore  a  little  before  it  gets  dark." 

And  Lady  Mary  smiled  assent,  as  she  seated  herself 
in  her  easy-chair  and  watched  lovingly  the  graceful  figure 
cross  the  lawn  with  Rascal  frisking  round  her.  They 
were  on  their  way  to  Cocker's  grave,  as  Lady  Mary 
was  fully  aware. 

"  Dear  child,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  she  is  looking 
better  than  I  ventured  to  hope.  Craig's  account  made 
me  quite  anxious — thinner,  out  of  spirits,  and  not  like 
her  old  self.  I  know  his  description  quite  worried  me. 
But  I  expect  Heath  was  right  when  he  said  the  great 
heat  was  trying  her.  I  daresay  Craig's  visit,  wrong  as 
it  was,  did  her  good.  Dear!  dear!  how  will  it  all  end?  " 
and  Lady  Mary  sighed  wearily,  for  she  was  just  in  that 
overtasked  state  of  mind  and  body  which  makes  it  so 
difficult  to  keep  depression  at  bay. 

Joan  was  Lady  Mary's  ewe  lamb.  Every  year  the 
child  of  her  adoption  had  grown  dearer  to  her ;  and 
she  knew  that,  whether  they  spoke  of  it  or  not,  the 
thought  of  the  approaching  winter  pressed  heavily  on 
them  both. 

"  I  wonder  if  George  and  Hildegarde  realise  how 
hard  it  is  on  me  ?  "  she  thought.  "  Craig  does ;  I  can 
see  it  in  his  eyes.  "  I  am  awfully  sorry  for  you,  Aunt 
Mary,"  he  said  that  last  evening,  "  but  I  mean  to  put 
a  stop  to  this  state  of  things  before  long."  Now,  I 
wonder  what  he  meant  by  that  ?  " 

Later  that  evening,  when  dinner  was  over,  Lady 
Mary  and  Joan  settled  themselves  for  a  long,  unre- 
strained talk. 

As  usual,  a  bright  little  fire  burnt  cheerily,  and 
Rascal  had  curled  himself  up  on  the  white  rug  that  had 
been  poor  old  Cocker's   favourite   resting-place.      The 


272  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

shaded  rose-coloured  lamps  cast  a  subdued,  pleasant 
glow  over  the  room,  and  the  perfume  of  hothouse 
flowers  from  the  Brantwood  conservatories  mingled 
with  the  woody  fragrance  of  the  pine-knots  with  which 
Willis  had  rilled  the  grate. 

When  they  had  drunk  their  coffee,  Joan  drew  a  large 
square  stool  close  to  Lady  Mary's  easy-chair  and  seated 
herself  comfortably. 

"  No,  you  are  not  to  work,"  she  said  in  a  coaxing 
voice,  as  Lady  Mary  was  about  to  take  up  her  knitting. 
"  We  must  do  nothing  but  talk,  talk,  talk  of  anything 
that  comes  into  our  heads,  and  when  you  are  tired  I 
shall  be  quite  content  to  watch  those  delicious  blue- 
green  flames,  and  to  realise  that  I  am  by  '  my  ain  fire- 
side '  again.  To-morrow  I  will  play  and  sing  to  you 
as  much  as  you  like,  but  not  to-night."  And  Lady 
Mary   smilingly  assented  to  this  programme. 

It  was  not  Joan  who  first  mentioned  Craig's  name. 

"  Nothing  shall  induce  me  to  speak  of  him  this  even- 
ing," she  had  said  to  herself  as  she  went  downstairs. 
"  I  will  tell  Lady  Mary  about  Silence  and  the  chil- 
dren :  she  will  love  to  hear  about  them." 

But  all  Joan's  good  resolutions  vanished  into  thin 
air  when  Lady  Mary  quietly  commenced  the  conversa- 
tii  .i    by    asking   what    Heath   thought   of   Craig. 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  was  all  Joan  could  say  the  first  moment, 
but  she  flushed  to  the  roots  of  her  hair. 

"  We  may  as  well  get  it  over,"  went  on  Lady  Mary 
calmly ;  "  we  shall  both  feel  more  comfortable  after- 
wards. Letters  tell  so  little,  and  I  can't  take  Craig's 
version  of  his  visit.  Tell  me  everything  from  the  be- 
ginning, dear  child."  And  after  this  Joan  needed  no 
further  bidding. 

Oh,  the  relief  of  pouring  it  all  out  into  the  sympathis- 
ing ear!  There  was  no  listener  to  compare  with  Lady 
Mary.  She  never  interrupted  or  broke  the  sequence  of 
a  narrative  unless  she  absolutely  needed  to  have  some 
point  made  clearer,  and  her  silent  interest  never  flagged. 


"Golden  October"  273 

If  Joan  paused  or  seemed  embarrassed,  a  brief  word  of 
encouragement  or  a  mute  caress  gave  her  fresh  impetus. 
JBut  not  until  the  story  was  finished,  and  Joan  had  hidden 
her  glowing  face  against  her  friend's  black  gown,  was 
Lady  Mary's  soft  voice  really  heard. 

"  Yes,  I  can  see  it  all  now,"  she  said  quietly.  "  And 
I  can  only  repeat  what  I  said  in  my  letter,  Joan,  that 
you  are  not  to  blame  for  what  has  happened.  You  did 
your  best,  you  poor  child.  And  Craig  was  bound  to  find 
out  the  truth  sooner  or  later." 

"  But  I  cannot  help  being  glad  that  he  knows  the 
truth !  "  Then  a  sweet  flickering  smile  broke  over  the 
care-worn  face. 

"  You  are  only  human,  Joan,  and  the  counsel  of 
perfection  is  not  easy.  If  we  poor  women  try  to  do  our 
duty,  and  ask  for  daily  strength  to  meet  daily  trials  in 
a  right  spirit,  that  is  all  our  Guardian  Angel  will 
require." 

"  Dearest  Lady  Mary,  there  is  no  one  who  says  such 
nice,  comforting  things  as  you  do,"  and  Joan  rested  her 
fresh  young  cheek  against  the  thin,  blue-veined  hand ; 
"  but  I  never  thought  life  could  be  quite  so  difficult." 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  not  your  fault,  darling.  Craig's  last 
escapade  has  only  added  to  the  complication.  I  wonder 
if  the  foolish  boy  realises  that  he  has  made  it  more 
impossible  than  ever  for  you  to  be  here?  Well,  we 
will  not  talk  about  that,"  as  a  shade  crossed  the  girl's 
face.  "  I  will  promise  you  one  thing,  that  we  will  not 
be  separated  for  another  five  months  if  I  can  prevent  it. 
There  are  ways  and  means,  and  we  will  arrange  some- 
thing." And  with  these  cheering  words  Lady  Mary 
closed  the  conversation. 


18 


XXXIII 

"A  LITTLE  CORNER  OF  PARADISE" 

The  leaf  presents  to  God  its  finished  story, 
Receiving  at  His  hand  its  meed  of  glory ; 
And  floating  gently  down,  with  mission  ended, 
Moulders  beneath  the  bough  its  life  defended. 

Yet  are  we  slow  to  learn  that  death  is  glorious 
Only  to  those  who  rise  o'er  self  victorious; 
Only  to  those  who  find  the  bliss  of  living 
In  ever,  like  the  leaf,  receiving,  giving. 

Nellie  M.  Arnold. 

They  were  very  happy  those  two,  and  Joan's  only 
complaint  was  that  the  days  passed  far  too  quickly.  In 
the  mornings,  when  Lady  Mary  interviewed  her  factotum, 
Mrs.  Hartley,  or  was  busy  with  necessary  letters  and 
accounts,  Joan  and  Rascal  revisited  all  their  old  haunts. 
They  even  wandered  in  the  Abbey  woods  and  meadows. 
During  the  rest  of  the  day  she  and  Lady  Mary  were 
inseparable.  They  walked  or  talked  or  took  long  drives, 
and  during  the  evenings  Joan  played  and  sang  or  read 
aloud  after  their  usual  peaceful  fashion. 

It  was  pleasant  to  see  how  Lady  Mary's  worn  spirits 
revived  in  her  favourite's  society.  The  tired,  harassed 
expression  was  less  visible.  She  ceased  to  brood  over 
the  trying  scenes  which  had  sapped  her  strength  far 
more  than  any  one  knew.  She  slept  better  and  enjoyed 
her  food,  and  Joan  rejoiced  to  see  the  improvement.  To 
her  surprise,  even  Dunlop  seemed  glad  to  have  her  back. 

"  It  will  never  do  for  you  to  stay  away  like  this 
again,  Miss  Joan,"  she  said  severely.  "  They  nearly 
killed  my  lady  between  them.  If  it  had  lasted  much 
longer,  we  should  have  had  her  on  a  sick-bed.  Night 
after  night,  it  would  be  twelve  or  one  o'clock  before  she 
came  to  her  room,  because  her  ladyship  would  not  be 

274 


"  A  Little  Corner  of  Paradise  "        275 

left.  Why,  I  have  seen  my  mistress  so  exhausted  that 
she  hardly  had  strength  to  creep  to  her  bed.  And 
many  the  morning  she  has  said  to  me,  "  I  have  been 
too  tired  to  sleep,  Dunlop.'*  But  there,  do  you  suppose 
her  ladyship  took  any  heed !  "  For  Dunlop,  like  many 
other  good  people,  could  not  realise  the  sufferer's  power- 
lessness  of  will  when  in  the  grip  of  nervous  illness,  and 
nothing  would  ever  have  convinced  her  that  Lady  Mer- 
riton  had  not  been  selfish  and  exacting  in  her  grief. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  go  back  to  St.  Breda's," 
returned  Joan  sadly.  She  was  quite  sure  that  Dunlop 
fully  understood  the  position  of  affairs,  although  no  word 
had  ever  passed  between  her  and  Lady  Mary. 

"  Then  you  must  take  the  consequences,  Miss  Joan/' 
replied  Dunlop  grimly,  as  she  carried  off  an  armful  of 
lace  frills  to  her  work-room. 

One  morning,  when  Lady  Mary  was  unusually  busy, 
Joan  and  Rascal  went  over  to  Herondale.  Prudence 
Rutherford  had  only  just  returned  from  Scotland,  and 
had  not  yet  appeared  at  Morningside. 

As  Joan  wanted  a  long  walk  and  only  intended  to 
pay  a  short  visit  to  the  Rectory,  she  determined  to 
take  the  longer  round  by  Sudlow  Hill.  The  sandstone 
road  lay  deep  among  the  firs,  and  in  the  sunshine  the 
air  was  laden  with  the  delicious  aromatic  scent  of  the 
pines.  A  little  higher  up  there  was  a  sort  of  ravine 
with  banks  on  either  side ;  winding  walks  stretched  in 
all  directions,  bordered  by  golden-brown  bracken  and  the 
dull  crimson  of  brambles.  Nature  seemed  preparing  the 
funeral  feast  of  the  slowly  dying  year.  As  yet  the 
frost  had  not  touched  the  oaks,  but  the  larches  and 
limes  were  shedding  golden  rain  on  Joan's  hat,  and  Rascal 
bounded  with  shrill  barks  of  delight  over  the  crisp  heaps 
of  the  fallen  leaves.  The  silence,  the  stillness,  the  tem- 
pered sunlight  slanting  between  the  tree-boles  seemed 
to  intoxicate  Joan  with  new  delight.  "  Oh,  could  Para- 
dise be  more  beautiful  than  this!  "  she  thought.  "  Surely 
the  new  earth  will  be  something  like  this!     One  could 


276  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

almost  imagine  those  little  clouds  were  angel  wings." 
But  Joan  smiled  at  her  own  fancies  as  she  rose  from 
the  mossy  bank.  She  was  almost  sorry  when  her  walk 
was  nearly  over  and  she  came  in  sight  of  the  village 
green  and  the  little  river  spanned  by  its  bridge.  Five 
minutes  later  she  stood  in  the  Rectory  porch.  As  Rascal 
uttered  one  of  his  war-whoops  at  the  sight  of  a  snail 
black-and-white  kitten  scaling  the  trellis-work  of  an 
arch,  Prudence  Rutherford  came  out  of  the  kitchen  in 
her  favourite  old  white  sunbonnet  with  a  basket  of  eggs 
on  her  arm. 

"  Why,  Joan,"  she  exclaimed  delightedly,  and  her 
plain  face  beamed  welcome,  "  what  a  sight  for  sore  e'en !  " 
and  she  hugged  her. 

"  Are  you  going  out,  Prudence  ?  Do  let  us  sit  down 
in  the  porch  for  a  few  minutes.  I  cannot  stay  more 
than  half-an-hour.  I  only  came  over  for  the  walk  and 
to  bring  you  a  message  from  Lady  Mary.  I  have  been 
all  round  by  Sudlow  Hill.  When  I  smelt  the  pines,  I 
thought  I  was  in  a  little  corner  of  Paradise,  and  that 
the  angels  had  just  lighted  up  their  lamps — the  sweet, 
spicy  odour  always  reminds  me  of  incense." 

"  You  romantic  little  person !  I  must  tell  Morven 
that.  If  you  have  walked  all  those  miles  you  must  be 
tired  and  thirsty.  Shall  I  bring  you  some  cider  or  a 
glass  of  milk?  " 

"  Oh,  cider,  please.  But  do  wait  a  moment,  Prue. 
I  have  to  give  you  Lady  Mary's  message.  She  wants 
you  and  Mr.  Rutherford  to  dine  with  us  to-morrow  ;  it 
will  be  one  of  our  old  quartette  parties." 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  sure  that  Morven  will  be  delighted 
to  come ;  he  has  gone  over  to  Aldershot,  and  will 
not  be  back  until  late  in  the  afternoon ;  but  I  know  I 
can  answer  for  him,  for  to-morrow  will  be  a  free  day, 
and  at  breakfast  this  morning  he  suggested  our  walking 
over  to  Morningside ;  we  both  so  wanted  to  see  you, 
Joan,  and  I  have  not  set  eyes  on  Lady  Mary  for  six  or 
seven  weeks.  Now  sit  down,  and  I  will  be  back  in  a 
moment." 


"  A  Little  Corner  of  Paradise  "        277 

The  porch  seat  was  low  and  deep,  and  Joan  settled 
herself  comfortably.  Rascal  was  still  barking  himself 
hoarse  at  the  foot  of  the  trellis-work,  and  the  kitten 
watched  him  with  benevolent  interest  from  the  top.  Pru- 
dence soon  returned  with  a  tempting  little  tray — a  glass 
tankard  filled  to  the  brim  with  sweet  yellow  cider  and 
some  brown  buns  fresh  from  the  oven. 

Joan   shared  her  luncheon  with  Rascal. 

"  I  suppose  you  were  going  to  take  those  eggs  to 
some  poor  sick  body,  Prudence?"  And  her  friend 
nodded. 

"  Yes,  to  Rachel  Blackburn.  We  have  been  so 
anxious  about  her.  Her  baby  is  not  a  week  old,  and  poor 
Rachel  is  so  ill.  We  don't  think  she  has  been  properly 
nursed.  Her  mother-in-law  is  a  feckless  sort  of  body, 
and  we  are  afraid  that  she  has  neglected  the  poor  young 
thing.  I  was  there  most  of  the  night  on  Friday,  for 
Dr.  Harrison  thought  so  badly  of  her.  Morven  went 
off  to  Atherton  the  next  morning,  and  sent  in  a  nice 
woman  who  had  been  a  hospital  nurse  before  she  married, 
and  both  mother  and  child  are  improving  now." 

Joan  listened  to  this  account  with  unfeigned  interest. 
Rachel  had  been  a  favourite  of  hers.  She  had  been 
the  village  beauty  before  she  married  Steeve  Blackburn, 
the  handsome  young  wheelwright,  who  had  courted  her 
from  a  child ;  and  she  had  been  under-housemaid  at  the 
Abbey  for  two  or  three  years,  and  Joan  knew  that  Lady 
Dorothy  had  promised  to  stand  sponsor  to  Rachel's  first 
child.  Joan  had  a  host  of  questions  to  Prudence  about 
Susan  Bennet  and  her  own  old  Sunday  scholars ;  and 
they  were  presently  so  deep  in  parochial  gossip  that 
the  half-hour  had  long  elapsed  before  Joan  bethought 
herself  that  she  would  be  late  for  luncheon. 

"  T  will  walk  with  you  as  far  as  the  Blackburn's 
cottage,"  observed  Prudence,  "  if  you  are  not  ashamed 
of  my  old  sunbonnet.  We  have  been  so  busy  parish- 
ing  that  I  have  not  heard  any  of  your  news,  Joan.  By 
the  bye,  I  had  a  long  letter  from  Dorothy  this  morning." 


273  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  So  had  Lady  Mary.  She  has  not  written  so  cheer- 
fully since  her  brother's  death.  She  says  her  mother 
improves  every  day,  and  that  her  Aunt  Miriam  is  so 
good  to  them,  and  that  she  wants  them  to  stay  as  long- 
as  possible." 

"  She  said  much  the  same  in  my  letter.  I  am  quite 
sure  this  visit  to  Templeton  will  do  them  both  a  world 
of  good." 

"  That  was  what  Lady  Mary  said  this  morning. 
Lady  Templeton  has  always  been  fond  of  Dorothy. 
Did  she  mention  those  new  friends  of  hers  at  the  Park?  " 

"Do  you  mean  Viscount  Helmore  and  his  family? 
Yes,  indeed.  Dorothy  seems  to  have  taken  a  fancy  to 
the  girls.  She  says  Violet  and  Bee,  two  younger  ones, 
are  charming,  so  natural  and  unsophisticated,  but  she 
seems  most  interested  in  the  eldest  daughter,  Orma,  who 
is  an  invalid." 

"  Dorothy  seems  to  have  taken  one  of  her  impulsive 
likings  for  this  Orma,"  returned  Joan.  "  Don't  you 
remember  our  telling  her  once  that  she  always  cared 
most  for  people  who  had  something  the  matter  with 
them,  and  she  did  not  deny  it?" 

"  No ;  but  this  Orma  seems  rather  sweet,  Joan. 
Dorothy  says  that  though  she  is  so  young — not  more 
than  nineteen — she  is  like  a  little  mother  to  her 
sisters,  and  they  are  so  devoted  to  her.  It  does  seem 
such  a  sad  case.  It  is  hip  disease  in  rather  an  aggra- 
vated form,  and  the  doctor  can  do  so  little  for  her.  At 
times  she  suffers  a  great  deal,  and  cannot  even  move 
from  her  wheeled  chair  or  couch,  but  she  is  so  wonder- 
fully patient.  The  nurse,  who  was  her  foster-mother, 
devotes  herself  entirely  to  her,  and  she  has  a  lovely 
sitting-room  opening  out  from  her  bedroom  on  the 
ground  floor." 

"  Dorothy  did  not  tell  Lady  Mary  all  that,"  observed 
Joan,  "  because  she  knew  that  she  would  rather  hear 
about  Lady  Merriton.  But  she  said  she  went  frequently 
to  Helmore  Park,   and  that  her  Aunt  Miriam  was  so 


"  A  Little  Corner  of  Paradise  "        279 

fond  of  young  people  that  she  encouraged  the  girls  to 
run  in  and  out.  They  have  no  mother,  you  know ;  she 
died  when  Bee  was  only  five." 

They  had  reached  the  Blackburn's  cottage  by  this 
time,  and  Joan  looked  up  at  the  small  lattice-window, 
with  its  snowy  curtains,  and  thought  of  the  young 
mother  who  had  only  just  emerged  from  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death. 

"  Give  my  love  to  Rachel,"  she  said.  "  I  should  like 
to  come  and  see  her  and  the  baby  as  soon  as  she  is 
well  enough." 

"  That  will  not  be  just  yet,"  returned  Prudence  re- 
gretfully. "  It  is  very  sad  to  see  that  handsome  girl 
looking  like  a  shadow;  she  has  hardly  strength  to  speak 
or  lift  her  hand.  Morven  had  to  baptize  the  child  that 
first  day.  As  it  is  a  boy,  Steeve  gave  him  his  father's 
name,  Nathaniel.  There  are  always  a  Stephen  and  a 
Nathaniel  in  the  Blackburn  family,  and  Steeve  adhered 
to  the  old  custom." 

"  When  I  tell  Lady  Mary  about  Rachel,  she  and 
Mrs.  Hartley  will  put  their  heads  together,  and  all  kinds 
of  delicious  soups  and  jellies  will  be  made  for  the 
invalid." 

"  Don't  we  know  our  Lady  Bountiful  ? "  returned 
Prudence,  smiling.  "  Morven  sometimes  declares  Lady 
Mary  will  pauperise  the  village.  Don't  you  remember, 
Joan,  when  little  Nora  Goldhurst  made  that  funny  speech 
to  her  mother:  '  Can't  I  be  ill  again  soon,  mummie,  and 
have  some  more  of  the  cur  ran  ty  jelly  and  barley-sugar 
drink  which  made  my  sore  chest  well?'  And  then 
they  both  laughed  and  parted. 

"  To  be  continued  in  our  next,"  observed  Joan  gaily, 
as  she  waved  her  hand.  But  Prudence  did  not  at  once 
unlatch  the  little  gate ;  she  was  watching  the  girl's 
graceful  walk  as  she  sped  swiftly  up  the  sunny  road. 

"  T  never  told  her  that  I  saw  Craig  before  I  left  Scot- 
land." she  said  to  herself.  "  But  perhaps  it  was  just 
as  well ;  she  might  have  asked  me  where  he  was  stay- 


280  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

ing,  and  then  perhaps  she  would  have  found  out  that 
he  and  Lady  Cicely  are  under  the  same  roof.  Silence 
is  golden  under  some  circumstances."  And  then  Prudence 
took  up  her  egg-basket  again  and  let  herself  into  the 
cottage. 

The  quartette  party  was  a  great  success.  Morven 
Rutherford  was  always  a  delightfully  genial  guest,  and 
the  conversation  never  flagged  when  he  was  present. 
His  holiday  had  been  spent  in  the  Austrian  Tyrol,  and 
his  description  of  the  primitive  customs  of  some  of  the 
remote  villages  was  wonderfully  interesting.  He  fairly 
thrilled  Lady  Mary  and  Joan  by  his  account  of  a  night's 
adventure  as  they  were  crossing  the  mountains.  They 
lost  their  guide  and  their  way,  and  they  had  to  grope 
their  way  in  the  darkness  to  a  place  of  safety,  where 
they  had  to  remain  nearly  frozen  until  dawn. 

On  their  return  to  the  drawing-room,  Mr.  Rutherford 
questioned  Joan  a  little  curiously  about  Dick  Trafford. 

"  Dick's  an  erratic  fellow,"  he  said ;  "  he  is  quite  a 
modern  edition  of  the  Wandering  Jew.  I  am  quite 
aware  that  he  is  in  Scotland  at  the  present  moment, 
for  I  have  had  three  exceedingly  brief  letters.  Dick's 
favourite  axiom  is  that  in  correspondence  "  brevity  is 
the  soul  of  wit,"  for  he  seldom  favours  me  with  more 
than  four  or  five  lines.  I  can  give  you  a  specimen  from 
memory : — 

"  Yours  to  hand.     Thanks  awfully.     Hope  you  are  as  fit  as 
your  humble  servant,  Richard  Trafford. 

"My  dutiful  respects  to  your  sister." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  laughed  Joan ;  "  but  he  does  not 
abbreviate  his  conversation.  I  have  heard  him  hold  forth 
for  about  five  minutes  without  a  break,  but  he  is  never 
prosy." 

"  Oh,  no,  prosiness  is  not  one  of  TrafTord's  failings." 

"  We  all  think  him  so  amusing,"  went  on  Joan.    "  We 

saw  a  great  deal  of  him  and  that  nice  aunt  of  his,  Mrs. 

Ramsay,  at  St.  Breda's;  and  he  carrfe  over  two  or  three 


"  A  Little  Corner  of  Paradise  "        281 

times  to  Revelstoke.  My  nieces  are  quite  devoted  to  him 
and  Dagon." 

"Your  nieces?"  tentatively,  and  it  was  evident  that 
Mr.  Rutherford  was  interested. 

"  Yes,  Wanda  and  Jess.  Jess's  devotion  is  quite  a 
touching  thing  to  see — she  follows  him  about  like  a  little 
dog." 

But  at  this  moment  Lady  Mary  broke  in  upon  their 
talk  by  asking  Joan  to  sing  to  them,  and  she  went  at  once 
to  the  piano.  Later  that  evening,  when  the  Rutherfords 
had  taken  their  departure,  Joan,  who  was  kneeling  on 
the  rug  for  a  final  warm  before  retiring  to  bed — for  the 
October  evenings  were  beginning  to  be  chilly — said  sud- 
denly in  her  impulsive  way : 

"  Do  you  know,  I  often  wonder  why  Mr.  Rutherford 
has  never  married." 

"  I  have  heard  many  people  say  the  same,"  returned 
Lady  Mary,  smiling. 

"  I  remember  Dorothy  told  me  once  that  during  his 
mother's  lifetime  he  was  not  at  all  well  off.  But  since 
then  Prudence  and  he  have  both  had  money  left  them, 
and  she  said  they  were  quite  comfortable  now.  He  is 
such  a  splendid  man,  and  it  seems  such  a  pity  that  he 
should  not  have  a  nice  wife.  I  asked  Dorothy  if  he  advo- 
cated the  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  and  she  said  certainly 
not,  and  that  she  had  heard  him  say  more  than  once  that 
a  country  rector  was  better  married." 

"  I  daresay  Prudence  could  tell  us  the  reason,  Joan." 

"Oh,  do  you  think  he  has  cared  for  some  one?" 
exclaimed  the  girl  curiously,  for  Lady  Mary's  tone  was  a 
little  mysterious. 

"  I  should  not  be  surprised,"  returned  her  friend 
quietly ;  "  I  have  always  fancied  that  there  was  some 
trouble  in  the  background.  Perhaps  he  loved  some  one 
who  did  not  return  his  affection,  or  perhaps  the  woman 
he  wanted  was  above  him  in  rank.  Why  do  you  look  at 
me  like  that,  Joan  ?  This  is  purely  guesswork ;  I  know 
nothing  for  certain." 


282  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  I  thought  for  the  moment  you  meant  Dorothy," 
returned  Joan  in  a  startled  tone.  But  Lady  Mary  shook 
her  head. 

"Our  demure,  gentle  little  Dollie?  What  an  idea, 
Joan !  They  are  very  much  attached  to  each  other,  but 
I  am  quite  sure  that  Mr.  Rutherford  is  not  in  love  with 
her.  But  Dorothy  has  charming  friends,  and  he  may  have 
met  his  fate  at  the  Abbey." 

"  He  admires  Lady  Cicely,"  observed  Joan,  "  every 
one  does,  but  he  never  seems  to  take  any  special  notice 
of  her." 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  sure  it  is  not  Lady  Cicely,"  in  an 
amused  voice. 

"  Then  it  might  be  her  cousin,  Lady  Marjorie,"  ex- 
claimed Joan  shrewdly ;  "  she  used  to  stay  so  much  at 
the  Abbey,  and  now  she  never  comes."  But  Lady  Mary 
refused  to  say  any  more  on  the  subject. 

"  I  don't  think  we  ought  to  try  and  find  out  our 
friends'  secrets  unless  they  give  us  their  confidence,"  she 
observed  gently  but  firmly ;  "  it  never  seems  to  me  quite 
honourable.  Most  lives  have  their  secret  chambers  and 
hidden  mysteries,  and  why  not  Morven  Rutherford?  but 
it  is  not  for  us  to  pry  curiously  into  them."  And,  though 
Lady  Mary  said  no  more,  she  had  a  strong  suspicion  that 
Joan's  arrow  at  a  venture  had  grazed  the  truth. 


XXXIV 

"IT  IS  RATTLING  GOOD  NEWS!" 

Whichever  way  the   wind   doth  blow, 
Some  heart  is  glad  to  have  it  so ; 
Then  blow  it  east,  or  blow  it  west, 
The  wind  that  blows,  that  wind  is  best. 

Caroline  A.  Mason. 

Those  who  bring  sunshine  to  the  life  of  others  cannot  keep 
it  from  themselves. — J.  M.  Barrie. 

During  the  following  week  Lord  Merriton  paid  one 
of  his  flying  visits  to  the  Abbey.  Joan,  who  had  not  seen 
him  since  she  had  left  Morningside  in  the  spring,  was 
inclined  to  be  rather  shy  and  reserved  with  him  at  first ; 
but  as  the  Earl  treated  her  with  his  old  kindness,  and 
seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  her  company,  these  uncom- 
fortable feelings  soon  disappeared.  They  had  always 
been  good  friends,  and  in  the  old  days  he  had  paid  her 
little  fatherly  attentions,  inviting  her  to  ride  with  him 
and  Dorothy.  Joan  was  a  famous  equestrian  and  never 
looked  to  more  advantage  than  on  horseback,  so  he  had 
often  asked  her  to  accompany  him  to  some  outlying  farm 
when  Dorothy  was  tired  or  busy,  and  on  these  occasions 
Joan  had  proved  herself  an  excellent  companion. 

Joan,  who  was  sincerely  attached  to  every  member 
of  the  Merriton  family,  was  very  grateful  for  the  Earl's 
kindness.  When  Lady  Mary  dined  at  the  Abbey,  to  keep 
him  company  during  the  long  evening,  he  insisted  that 
the  girl  should  accompany  her. 

Joan  was  perfectly  willing  to  go.  She  knew  exactly 
when  to  efface  herself.  When  they  had  taken  their  coffee 
she  would  steal  away  to  the  music-room,  and  play  or 
sing  one  song  after  another.  Now  and  then  the  brother 
and  sister  would  break  off  their  low-toned  talk  to  listen 


284  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

to  the  fresh  girlish  notes  which  rang  through  the  big 
empty  rooms.  One  evening  Lord  Merriton  looked  at  his 
sister  rather  wistfully.  "  I  think  she  seems  happier, 
Mary,"  he  said,  and  Lady  Mary  had  not  the  heart  to 
undeceive  him ;  she  could  read  his  unspoken  thought : 
"  She  ie  young;  they  are  both  so  young  that  they  will 
soon  get  over  it.  How  few  men,  or  women  either,  marry 
their  first  love?  Neither  Hildegarde  nor  I  did,  and  yet 
no  wedded  couple  could  be  happier."  He  had  said  this 
more  than  once  to  her,  and  she  knew  it  was  in  his  mind 
now. 

Once,  when  Joan  was  playing  some  sweet  plaintive 
melody,  Lord  Merriton  asked  his  sister  rather  abruptly 
how  long  Joan  would  remain  at  Morningside. 

"  ITiat  depends  on  circumstances,"  she  returned 
pointedly.  "  As  you  may  imagine,  I  am  very  unwilling 
to  part  with  her ;  but  when  Hildegarde  comes  home  I 
think  it  will  be  better  for  Joan  to  go  back  to  St.  Breda's 
Lodge.  One  can  never  be  sure  of  Craig's  movements ; 
but  the  winter  will  be  very  dull  without  her." 

"  What  a  confounded  nuisance  the  whole  business 
is !  "  returned  the  Earl  testily.  "  It  does  not  seem  fair 
that  you  should  be  subjected  to  all  this  inconvenience. 
I  hate  to  think  of  your  having  to  do  without  Joan  this 
winter,  and  yet  I  don't  see  how  you  are  going  to  keep 
her." 

"  Neither  do  I."  returned  Lady  Mary  quietly.  "  But 
don't  worry  about  it,  George ;  I  daresay  I  shall  find  some 
way  of  solving  the  difficulty.  Perhaps  I  shall  make  a 
break  for  once  and  spend  a  few  weeks  at  Torquay.  Joan 
could  come  to  me  there,  or  I  could  have  her  up  for  a 
week  now  and  then  when  the  coast  is  clear."  Lord  Merri- 
ton only  shook  his  head  with  a  sigh. 

"  You  are  very  good  about  it,  Mary,  but  all  the  same 
it  troubles  me  that  you  should  be  deprived  of  your 
companion." 

"  In  this  world  one  has  to  suffer  for  one's  mistakes," 
returned  his  sister. 


It  is  Rattling  Good  News"  285 


'.-i 


"  But  you  have  made  no  mistake,  my  dear !  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have,  George,  though  you  and  Hilde- 
garde  are  too  kind  to  tell  me  so;  if  I  had  not  brought 
Joan  to  Morningsidc,  none  of  this  difficulty  would  have 
arisen.  Do  you  know,  the  idea  of  one  of  your  boys  fall- 
ing in  love  with  her  never  entered  my  head.  We  none  of 
us  considered  her  pretty  enough  to  be  a  dangerous  attrac- 
tion. Don't  you  remember  how  poor  Arthur  called  her 
'  the  red-headed  girl  '?  " 

Lord  Merriton  looked  a  little  grave  at  the  mention  of 
his  son. 

"  Yes,  T  remember.  But  I  have  changed  my  mind  a 
bit  on  that  subject.  I  was  only  thinking  this  evening 
that  there  is  something  very  taking  about  the  girl.  She 
is  no  beauty,  of  course,  but  with  her  slim  young  figure 
and  that  wonderful  hair  of  hers  shining  like  spun  silk  in 
the  lamplight — Arthur  was  wrong  about  the  colour — 
one  could  fancy  a  young  fellow  losing  his  head  over  her." 
Lord  Merriton  had  never  said  as  much  before,  and  Lady 
Mary  was  much  gratified  by  his  speech. 

Her  brother's  visit  had  cheered  her  greatly.  He  had 
brought  nothing  but  good  news  from  Templeton  Park. 
On  the  last  evening,  when  they  went  up  to  the  Abbey, 
and  Joan  had  again  wandered  off  to  the  music-room, 
Lord  Merriton  was  even  more  communicative  than  usual. 

"  Templeton  and  his  wife  are  awfully  hospitable.  I 
think  they  would  be  willing  to  keep  us  the  whole  winter. 
That  good  soul  Miriam  said  to  me  quite  seriously,  the 
morning  I  came  away,  '  Now,  Merriton,  you  must  let 
me  keep  Hildegarde  and  Dorothy  as  long  as  possible. 
Hildegarde  is  recovering  her  tone  more  every  day.  It 
would  be  unwise  to  hurry  matters,  and  I  love  to  have 
them.  You  can  go  backwards  and  forwards  as  much  as 
you  please,  and  your  sister  will  look  after  you.'  " 

"  I  should  take  Lady  Templeton's  advice,  George. 
Dorothy,  too,  seems  very  happy  with  her  aunt." 

"  You  would  say  so  if  you  saw  her.  Dollie  is  having 
a  grand  time  in  her  own  quiet  way.    The  Helmore  girls 


286  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

are  always  about  the  place,  arH  she  and  Hildegarde  are 
always  driving  over  to  the  Park  to  see  the  invalid.  Hilde- 
garde seems  to  have  taken  a  fancy  to  ler  too." 

"  Yes,  it  all  sounds  delightful.  Then  you  will  be 
coming  up  again,  George  ?  " 

"  In  about  ten  days  or  so.  I  shall  probably  take 
the  inside  of  a  week.  By  that  time  we  shall  know  more 
of  Craig's  movements.  By  the  bye,  Mary,  I  never  told 
you  that  Templeton  is  doing  him  a  good  turn.  He  has 
advised  him  to  join  the  Yeomanry,  and  has  offered  to 
introduce  him  to  the  Colonel,  who  is  a  friend  of  his. 
He  says  he  can  find  plenty  of  work  for  an  active  young 
officer;  so  there  is  no  need  for  his  loafing  round,  as  he 
expresses  it." 

"  No,  indeed,  and  I  was  sure  something  would  turn 
tip.  Craig  is  not  the  sort  of  man  to  remain  long  idle ; 
he  is  certain  to  find  plenty  of  interests." 

"  I  believe  we  have  to  thank  Joan  for  this,"  returned 
Lord  Merriton  slowly.  "  Craig  told  his  mother  before 
he  left  that  he  had  been  to  St.  Breda's  and  seen  the  girl, 
and  that  she  had  given  him  a  lot  of  good  advice,  and 
recommended  him  to  talk  to  his  uncle.  Craig's  pertinacity 
about  the  girl  worried  Hildegarde  a  good  deal,  but 
Miriam  advised  her  to  take  no  notice.  Anyhow,  Craig's 
taken  his  uncle's  advice  and  means  to  join  the  Yeomanry 
as  soon  as  possible." 

The  Earl  had  unconsciously  raised  his  voice,  and 
perhaps  this  was  the  reason  why  neither  of  them  heard 
Joan's  light  footstep  until  she  was  close  to  them.  And 
so  it  was  the  last  few  words  reached  her  ears — "  Craig 
has  taken  his  uncle's  advice  and  means  to  join  the  Yeo- 
manry as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  a  little  breathlessly, 
but  her  eyes  were  very  bright,  "  I  did  not  mean  to  inter- 
rupt you  :  I  will  go  back  to  the  music-room."  But  Lord 
Merriton  would  not  allow  this;  no  more  kind-hearted 
man  ever  lived,  and  with  all  his  hereditary  pride  he  had 
an  Englishman's  sense  of  fairness. 


"  It  is  Rattling  Good  News  "         287 


■•e 


"  We  are  not  talking  secrets,  Joan.  I  was  only  just 
telling  my  sister  that  Templeton  has  advised  Josselyn  to 
enter  the  Yeomanry,  and  that  he  seems  to  take  very 
kindly  to  the  idea." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  "  replied  Joan  simply.  And 
indeed  she  looked  very  happy.  "  Lady  Mary,  I  heard 
the  carriage  coming,  and  it  is  getting  quite  late."  Then 
the  elder  lady  rose  at  once. 

"  We  must  go  now,  George,  but  you  will  come  and 
see  me  in  the  morning  before  you  go  back  to  Temple- 
ton  ?  "  And  Lord  Merriton  promised  that  he  would  turn 
up  without  fail.  He  would  have  liked  to  have  said  a 
word  to  Joan  to  show  her  that  he  appreciated  her  sen- 
sible advice  to  Craig,  but  on  second  thoughts  he  deter- 
mined to  say  nothing,  the  less  Craig's  name  was  men- 
tioned the  better.  But  Joan,  on  her  part,  did  not  attempt 
to  conceal  her  pleasure  from  Lady  Mary. 

"  I  do  think  it  was  so  nice  of  Lord  Merriton  to  tell 
me  that.     He  really  is  an  old  dear !  " 

"  He  is  certainly  very  fond  of  you,  Joan.  He  is 
always  saying  something  pretty  about  you." 

"  Oh,  he  does  that  to  please  you,  dear,  but  all  the 
same  I  wanted  to  hug  him  this  evening.  You  know  I 
always  used  to  kiss  him  until  I  was  in  long  frocks." 

Lady  Mary  smiled.  "  You  see  he  wants  to  be  kind 
to  my  adopted  daughter." 

"  There,  I  must  kiss  you  now,  for  it  is  so  sweet  of 
you  to  call  me  that.  I  mean  to  sign  myself  '  your  loving 
child  '  in  my  next  letter.  Oh,  dear,  I  do  feel  so  joyful 
to-night,  and  it  is  all  because  that  poor  boy  will  not  be 
utterly  cut  off  from  his  soldiering.  He  will  keep  his 
horses  and  ride  about  and  drill  his  men,  and  though  it 
will  be  play-work  to  him  after  Aldershot,  it  will  give 
him  something  to  think  about.  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  that 
that  idea  jumped  into  my  head  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  we  are  all  very  grateful  to  you.  Joan ; 
but,  my  love,  it  is  very  late,  and  I  am  rather  tired  " ;  and 
this  gentle  hint  was  sufficient  for  Joan. 


288  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Another  week  passed  happily  away,  and  Joan  had 
been  a  month  at  Morningside,  when,  on  the  last  day  of 
October,  when  the  wind  was  stripping  the  trees  of  their 
leaves  and  moaning  through  the  Brantwood  copses,  a 
telegram  reached  Lady  Mary : 

Shall  take  morning  train.  Expect  you  both  to  dinner  this 
evening.  Merriton. 

"  Dear  me,"  remarked  Lady  Man-,  looking  gently 
flustered,  "  this  is  rather  a  surprise,  Joan,  for  Dorothy 
told  me  in  her  last  letter  that  her  father  did  not  mean  to 
come  home  until  the  middle  of  next  week." 

"  Probably  he  has  some  business  that  needs  his  atten- 
tion earlier,"  suggested  Joan.  "  Shall  I  run  over  to  the 
Abbey  and  see  if  we  are  really  expected  ?  " 

"  Yes,  perhaps  that  will  be  best.  I  wish  I  had  had 
the  telegram  an  hour  ago,  before  I  gave  Hartley  the 
menu  for  the  evening.  Well,  it  cannot  be  helped ;  find 
out  all  you  can,  Joan,  and  I  will  wait  until  you  come 
back." 

But  the  girl  had  little  to  report  on  her  return.  The 
housekeeper  had  had  a  telegram  also,  ordering  dinner 
for  three.  "As  the  carriage  is  to  meet  the  1.15  train," 
went  on  Joan,  "  Lord  Merriton  will  be  at  the  Abbey  in 
time  for  luncheon.  Of  course  I  told  Mrs.  Robson  that 
we  were  the  expected  guests." 

"  Must  you  go  over  to  Herondale  this  afternoon, 
Joan?" 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  must;  I  promised  to  take  those  scrap- 
books  to  Prudence,  but  I  will  be  back  in  good  time  for 
tea.  You  don't  know  how  Rascal  and  I  will  enjoy 
battling  our  way  through  this  delicious  wind.  It  is  so 
soft  with  all  its  violence,  and  it  is  such  fun  to  see  the 
crimson  and  yellow  leaves  waltzing  and  eddying  round 
one.  It  nearly  drives  Rascal  crazy  because  he  can't  catch 
them  all." 

"Oh,  what  it  is  to  be  young,  Joan !  "  But  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  Lady  Mary's  gentle,  equable  tempera- 


It  is  Rattling  Good  News  "         289 


'r> 


ment  had  even  in  youth  known  the  exuberant  joy  of  life 
which  was  natural  to  Joan,  and  which  was  one  of  her 
chief  charms. 

When  luncheon  was  over  and  Joan  had  gone  upstairs 
to  put  on  her  hat,  Lady  Mary  walked  to  the  window ; 
but  the  whirling  leaves  and  tossing  branches  of  the  trees 
made  her  quite  giddy. 

"  How  tastes  differ !  "  she  thought  as  she  selected  a 
book  and  sat  down  by  her  own  snug  fireside. 

The  book  was  interesting,  but  the  warmth  and  still- 
ness of  the  quiet  room  had  a  soporific  influence  over  the 
reader,  and  Lady  Mary  was  only  roused  from  a  refresh- 
ing nap  by  the  sound  of  the  door-bell ;  and  as  she  straight- 
ened herself  in  her  chair  and  adjusted  the  ruffles  at  her 
wrists  in  expectancy  of  some  visitor,  Lord  Merriton 
walked  into  the  room. 

"  Why,  George,"  in  a  pleased  tone,  as  he  greeted  her, 
"  I  never  dreamt  of  seeing  you  this  afternoon.  It  is  very 
good  of  you  to  take  the  trouble  when  we  are  coming  to 
the  Abbey  this  evening." 

"  Well,  it  came  into  my  head,  when  I  had  finished 
luncheon,  that  it  would  be  a  nice  thing  to  do,"  and  Lord 
Merriton  settled  himself  contentedly  in  the  opposite  easy- 
chair.    "  Are  you  alone,  Mary?  " 

"  Yes,  Joan  is  out.  She  has  gone  over  to  Herondale, 
but  she  will  be  back  in  good  time  to  make  the  tea  for  us. 
How  well  you  look,  dear !  How  have  you  left  Hildegarde 
and  Dorothy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  are  as  fit  as  possible,"  he  returned  a  little 
absently.  "  Do  you  know,  Mary,  I  never  come  into  this 
room  without  thinking  it  is  far  cosier  than  any  of  our3 
at  the  Abbey." 

"  You  used  to  say  the  same  of  our  drawing-room  at 
Roskill  Priory." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember.  A  fine  old  place  that !  Hilde- 
garde says  you  have  a  knack  of  putting  furniture  in  its 
right  place.  She  thinks  you  have  quite  a  genius  for 
arrangement." 

19 


290  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Lady  Mary  smiled.  These  little  compliments  always 
pleased  her.  She  took  a  great  deal  of  pride  in  her  house, 
and  liked  to  surround  herself  with  pretty  things.  It  was 
certainly  a  very  charming  room,  there  was  something 
quaint  and  picturesque  about  it,  and  she  and  Joan  loved 
no  other  room  so  well ;  but  she  had  no  wish  at  the  present 
moment  to  talk  about  furniture. 

"  You  altered  your  arrangements,  George,"  she  re- 
marked, as  Lord  Merriton  took  up  the  brass  tongs  to 
adjust  a  log  that  seemed  in  peril ;  "  I  understood  that 
you  were  not  coming  up  until  the  middle  of  next  week." 

"  No,  but  there  was  some  difficulty  about  the  lease 
of  the  Up  fold  Farm.  The  new  tenant  has  objected  to  one 
clause,  and  Lathom  wanted  to  see  me  about  it,  so  we 
changed  our  programme.  I  have  only  come  for  three 
nights,  and  shall  go  down  to  Templeton  on  Saturday. 
And  I  shall  bring  back  the  wife  and  Dorothy  on 
Thursday.'* 

"  Do  you  mean  next  Thursday?  " 

"  Yes ;  we  think  our  visit  has  been  quite  long  enough, 
and  that  we  have  no  right  to  trespass  on  their  hospitality 
any  longer.  Why,  it  will  be  just  six  weeks,  and  Hilde- 
garde  is  quite  well  enough  to  come  home.  We  shall  pick 
up  Craig  in  town  and  come  down  all  together,  and  you 
must  be  at  the  Abbey  to  receive  us." 

"  You  may  be  quite  certain  that,  if  all  is  well,  I  shall 
be  there,"  she  returned  quietly,  but  she  checked  an  inward 
sigh.  There  was  only  another  week  for  Joan !  Her 
brother's  next  speech  fairly  electrified  her. 

"  And  now  for  my  news,  Mary.  I  came  across  this 
afternoon  because  I  could  not  wait  until  this  evening — 
that  is  why  I  am  so  glad  to  find  you  alone." 

"  Oh,  what  is  it,  George?  "  and  a  nervous  flush  came 
to  Lady  Mary's  face.    "  Surely  nothing  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that  is  not  entirely  satisfactory.  It  is 
rattling  good  news!  as  Craig  would  say.  Viscount 
Helmore  has  proposed  to  our  little  girl  Dorothy,  and 
fihe  has  accepted  him." 


XXXV 

"A  FINE  FELLOW,  JOHN  HELMORE" 

Silence  is  the  perfectest  herald  of  joy:  I  were  but  little  happy, 
if  I  could  say  how  much. — Shakespeare. 

"  George,  my  dear  brother,  you  have  taken  my  breath 
away !  "  Lady  Mary  looked  quite  pale.  The  news  was  so 
surprising,  so  utterly  unexpected,  that  she  could  hardly 
believe  her  ears. 

"  I  knew  it  would  startle  you,  but  it  was  no  use  beat- 
ing about  the  bush.  Good  luck  has  not  come  our  way 
lately,  so  I  thought  I  would  tell  you  the  great  news  with- 
out delay." 

"  You  are  very  kind ;  but  when — when  did  it 
happen  ?  " 

"  Well,  Helmore  spoke  to  me  some  days  ago  when 
we  were  on  the  golf-links  together.  I  don't  think  I  ever 
was  so  taken  aback  in  all  my  life  as  when  he  asked  me 
for  my  little  girl.  He  is  a  fine  fellow,  John  Helmore, 
though  I  should  have  preferred  a  younger  son-in-law 
without  incumbrances  in  the  shape  of  grown-up  daugh- 
ters ;  but  he  is  only  fifty,  and  as  hale  and  hearty  as  any 
one  could  wish,  and  he  is  a  far  richer  man  than  Lord 
Angus  Rother." 

"  And  Dorothy — tell  me  about  Dorothy." 

"  Well,  he  spoke  to  her  the  day  before  yesterday. 
He  knew  how  to  manage  her  better  than  Lord  Angus 
did.  Having  daughters  of  his  own,  I  suppose,  has  put 
him  up  to  a  thing  or  two;  but  anyhow  the  girl  accepted 
him,  and  went  straight  to  her  mother  to  tell  her  so." 

"But  is  she  sure  of  her  own  mind,  George?  Does 
she  really  care  for  Viscount  Helmore?  You  remember 
how  she  treated  Lord  Angus." 

**  Well,  you  know  what  a  shy  little  mouse  Dollie  is. 

«91 


292  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

I  can't  say  I  got  much  out  of  her  myself ;  but  Hildegarde 
declares  that  she  is  very  much  in  love,  and  can  hardly 
believe  in  her  good  fortune.  She  certainly  looked  very 
sweet  when  Helmore  dined  with  us  that  evening,  though 
I  don't  remember  hearing  her  voice.  By  the  bye,  Hilde- 
garde  and  Dollie  have  both  written  to  you,  and  there  is  a 
note  for  Joan." 

Lady  Mary  was  too  busy  with  her  questions  to  read 
her  letters.  They  would  keep,  she  thought,  until  her 
brother  had  gone,  and  there  was  something  else  she  par- 
ticularly wished  to  ask  him. 

"  George,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  exactly  how  Hilde- 
garde  feels  about  this  engagement." 

"  Well,  she  is  as  proud  as  a  hen  with  one  chick,  and 
so  excited  that  she  can  talk  and  think  of  nothing  else. 
Last  evening  she  said  to  me,  '  I  cannot  honestly  say  that 
I  should  not  have  preferred  Lord  Angus  for  a  son-in-law, 
as  he  is  so  much  nearer  Dollie's  age,  and  though  he  is  a 
widower,  still  there  are  no  children ;  but  I  don't  think 
Dollie  ever  really  cared  for  him.' 

"'And  you  think  Helmore  has  won  her  heart?'  I 
asked  her. 

"  '  Oh,  I  am  sure  of  it/  she  returned,  '  and  that  is 
why  I  am  so  happy  about  the  dear  child.  Dorothy  is  so 
peculiar,  I  was  beginning  to  fear  that  she  would  end  by 
being  an  old  maid,  and  I  did  so  want  her  to  be  happily 
married.  It  is  quite  true,'  she  went  on,  '  that  her  three 
step-daughters  will  look  like  her  younger  sisters,  but  there 
is  no  son,  Merriton,  to  inherit  that  fine  estate.'  And  then 
she  looked  at  me,  and  I  knew  what  thought  was  in  her 
head,  and  I  confess  the  same  idea  had  occurred  to  me." 
And  here  the  Earl  rubbed  his  hands  with  a  low  chuckle 
of  amusement. 

"  What  a  manoeuvring,  worldly  old  couple  we  are ! — 
eh,  Mary?" 

"  I  can  understand  Hildegarde's  pleasure  in  Dorothy's 
engagement,"  returned  Lady  Mary  thoughtfully ;  "  but  I 
suppose  nothing  will  be  settled  about  the  marriage  for 
some  time  to  come?" 


"  A  Fine  Fellow,  John  Helrnore  "      293 

"  Well,  not  exactly  settled,"  replied  Lord  Merriton ; 
"  it  is  rather  early  days  for  that.  But  Helmore  had  a 
little  talk  with  us  yesterday.  He  said  he  should  like  it 
to  be  as  soon  as  possible,  but  that  he  did  not  wish  to  hurry 
us  or  put  us  to  any  inconvenience — that  we  should  doubt- 
less wish  the  wedding-  to  be  a  quiet  one.  He  spoke  very 
sensibly,  and  showed  a  good  deal  of  consideration  for 
our  feelings,  but  it  is  evident  that  he  would  like  to  carry 
off  Dorothy  as  soon  as  we  can  spare  her." 

"  Oh,  that  is  just  the  difficulty,  George.  Dorothy  is 
an  onlv  daughter — what  will  her  mother  do  without 
her?" 

Lord  Merriton  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders  with 
rather  a  whimsical  smile. 

"  Well,  that  is  where  Hildegarde  surprises  me.  She 
does  not  seem  to  think  of  herself  or  me  at  all  in  the 
matter.  She  says  Dorothy  must  be  our  chief  consid- 
eration, and  that  a  man  of  Helmore's  age  would  dislike  a 
long  engagement.  '  You  must  tell  Mary  that  I  do  not 
think  the  marriage  ought  to  be  later  than  February, 
especially  as  we  are  all  agreed  that  it  must  be  quiet ;  but 
I  will  talk  to  Dorothy,  and  I  daresay  when  you  return  on 
Saturday  we  shall  have  come  to  some  decision.'  " 

"  Yes,  I  see,  that  will  be  in  three  months'  time.  I 
think  I  comprehend  Hildegarde's  view.  Very  likely  she 
is  right,  but  all  the  same  I  do  not  see  how  either  of  you 
are  to  do  without  Dorothy.  Ah,  there  is  Joan,  but  we 
have  had  time  for  a  nice  long  talk."  And  then  Joan  came 
in  glowing  with  health  and  exercise,  and  a  moment  later 
Willis  followed  with  the  tea-tray. 

By  mutual  consent  nothing  of  any  moment  was  said 
until  Joan  had  poured  out  the  tea.  The  Earl  had  ex- 
hausted his  budget  and  felt  somewhat  fatigued.  But  as 
Joan  presently  handed  him  the  hot  tea-cakes,  he  said 
abruptly : 

"  Dollie  asked  me  to  give  you  this  note,  with  her 
love ;  I  think  the  contents  will  surprise  you."  And  Lord 
Merriton's  tone  was  so  significant  that  Joan,  who  had 


294  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

been  vaguely  conscious  of  something  electric  in  the 
atmosphere,  felt  at  once  that  something  had  occurred. 
As  usual,  her  first  thought  was  Craig. 

''Oh,  what  is  it — please  tell  me?"  she  said  a  little 
breathlessly.  "  I  am  quite  sure  from  your  and  Lady 
Mary's  manner  that  something  has  happened." 

"  Well,  yes — Dorothy  has  gone  and  engaged  herself 
to  Lord  Helmore — with  her  parents'  sanction,  remember 
— and  we  are  all  very  much  pleased  and  excited."  But 
to  Lord  Merriton's  surprise  Joan  grew  suddenly  very 
pale. 

"  Dorothy  engaged — my  dear  Dorothy !  Oh,  I  am  so 
glad — so  very  glad !  "  But  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears, 
and  it  was  evident  that  she  could  say  no  more,  so  she 
sat  down  in  the  lamplight  to  read  her  note. 

Lady  Mary  looked  across  at  her  anxiously.  If  they 
had  been  alone  Joan  would  have  been  kneeling  on  the  rug 
at  her  feet,  and  they  would  have  read  their  letters 
together.     Dorothy's  note  was  very  short. 

"Dearest  Joan,"  she  wrote,  "I  have  just  written  to  Aunt 
Marjr.  and  have  only  time  for  this  wee  note.  Father  will  have 
told  you  the  wonderful  news.  I  have  been  engaged  two  days, 
but  I  can  hardly  realise  the  fact  yet,  although  I  have  seen  it 
coming  and  knew  how  it  would  all  end. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  happy,  Joan,  but  I  cannot  write  about  it. 
There  is  no  one  like  him — there  never  has  been !  If  I  could 
talk  to  you  about  it ;  but  I  fear  there  is  no  chance  of  that,  as 
we  are  coming  home  on  Thursday  and  I  believe  Craig  will  be 
with  us.  Do  you  know,  Joan,  1  can  understand  y  iu  and  Craig 
better  now,  and  I  feel  so  sorry  for  you  both.  I  want  every 
one  I  love  to  be  as  happy  as  I  am,  and  when  I  think  how  you 
are  banished  from  your  home  it  makes  me  so  sad.  Besides,  I 
really  crave  a  sight  of  your  dear  face  after  all  these  months. 
Father  says  I  must  hurry  up.  So  good-bye  for  the  present. — 
Your  loving  Dorothy." 

"  Well,  I  must  be  going  back ;  I  have  some  letters  to 
answer  before  dinner  " — and  Lord  Merriton  rose  reluc- 
tantly from  his  comfortable  chair.  "  I  will  let  myself 
out.  Au  revoir,  ladies.  Don't  be  later  than  half-past 
seven." 


"A  Fine  Fellow,  John  Helmore  "      295 

The  room  seemed  strangely  still  for  a  time.  Lady- 
Mary  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  read  her  letters,  and 
Joan  sat  still  at  the  tea-table  with  her  hand  shielding 
her  face  from  the  light.  She  was  trying  to  battle  with 
some  rebellious  thoughts  which  threatened  to  master 
her. 

"  Joan  darling,  come  here,  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 
And  as  Joan  obeyed  the  summons,  Lady  Mary  made  room 
for  her  on  the  square  footstool. 

"  I  have  had  such  delightful  letters  from  Lady  Merri- 
ton  and  Dorothy ;  you  must  read  them  presently." 

"  May  I  have  them  now?  "  pleaded  Joan  rather  wist- 
fully. Then  Lady  Mary  handed  them  to  her.  But  as 
Joan  eagerly  perused  them,  her  friend  still  watched  her 
rather  anxiously. 

Why  had  Joan  taken  it  so  quietly  ?  Something  seemed 
to  have  upset  her  and  checked  her  gladness.  She  had 
hardly  spoken  a  word  since  the  news  had  been  told  her. 
But  Lady  Mary  was  a  patient  woman,  and  she  could  wait, 
and  after  all  she  was  not  kept  long  in  suspense. 

"  Thank  you,"  observed  Joan  presently ;  "  I  am  so 
glad  that  you  let  me  read  those  letters."  Then  she  leant 
on  Lady  Mary's  lap  with  her  chin  propped  on  her  hands, 
and  looked  earnestly  up  into  her  friend's  face. 

"  Dearest,  you  must  not  think  that  I  am  not  pleased 
about  this  because  I  have  been  a  little  silent.  I  am  more 
glad  and  thankful  than  I  can  say  that  our  dear,  good 
Dorothy  will  have  some  one  to  care  for  her  all  her  life. 
Oh,  how  happy  she  is — one  can  read  it  in  every  line — 
but  she  seems  hardly  able  to  realise  it." 

"  Oh,  you  must  give  her  time,  Joan." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  And  then  it  is  so  nice  to  see  Lady 
Merriton  writing  in  her  old  natural  way.  Dorothv's 
engagement  will  do  her  mother  a  world  of  good.  She 
will  forget  herself  and  her  troubles ;  it  will  be  nothing 
but  Dorothy  now." 

;'  Yes,  and  she  seems  so  thoroughly  satisfied  with  her 
prospective   son-in-law.     You   see   what   she   says — that 


296  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Lord  Helmore  is  a  fine-looking  man,  and  hardly  appears 
his  ag-e.  I  think  the  idea  of  the  three  grown-up  daughters 
troubles  her  most." 

"  Dorothy  does  not  seem  to  mind,"  returned  Joan. 

"  No,  indeed,  and  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  the 
girls  are  pleased  about  it.  Even  Orma,  who  has  been 
her  father's  companion,  seems  quite  willing  to  welcome 
Dorothy." 

"  I  am  glad  Lady  Merriton  told  you  that.  Do  you 
know,  dear  Lady  Mary,  that  I  am  quite  sure  that  Dorothy 
will  be  an  ideal  step-mother.  She  is  so  gentle  and  yield- 
ing, and  yet  she  has  plently  of  character.  She  will  just 
love  to  devote  herself  to  that  poor  suffering  girl." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Joan ;  and  personally  I  believe  I 
shall  like  Lord  Helmore  much  better  than  that  Lord 
Angus  they  talked  so  much  about,  as  he  seemed  to  me 
rather  a  colourless  individual." 

"  I  thought  so  too  from  Dorothy's  description,  and  I 
think  she  was  very  wise  to  get  rid  of  him.  Perhaps 
this  has  something  to  do  with  Lady  Merriton  not  wish- 
ing for  a  long  engagement.  But  I  do  not  think  that  she 
need  fear  that  Dorothy  will  change  her  mind  this  time." 

"  No,  indeed."  And  then,  after  a  moment's  silence — 
"  Joan,  did  Dollie  tell  you  that  they  are  all  coming  home 
on  Thursday  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  told  me  so,  and  that  Craig  would  be 
with  them.  So  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  go  back  to 
St.  Breda's  Lodge  on  Wednesday?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  so,  darling,  I  don't  see  wrhat  else  is  to  be 
done.  But  it  certainly  spoils  things,  and  it  is  very  hard 
on  you  and  Dorothy." 

"  It  is  more  than  hard — it  is  absolutely  cruel !  "  re- 
turned Joan  in  a  choked  voice,  "  and  I  do  not  know  how 
to  bear  it.     Not  to  see  dear  Dorothy  or  give  her  one 

kiss  of  congratulation !  "    But  here  poor  Joan  utterly 

broke  down ;  she  hid  her  face  on  Lady  Mary's  lap  and 
sobbed  like  a  broken-hearted  child.  Lady  Mary  nearly 
cried  too. 


"  A  Fine  Fellow,  John  Helmore  "     297 

"  Hush,  darling !  Oh,  my  dear  child,  you  must  not 
give  way  like  this !  Don't,  Joan ;  for  my  sake  try  to  be 
calm !  "  But  it  was  some  minutes  before  the  girl  could 
control  herself. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  murmured ;  "  I  did  not 
want  to  be  selfish  and  think  of  my  own  feeling,  but  it 
was  too  much  to  bear." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  but,  Joan,  we  will  find  some  way  out 
of  it.  I  will  speak  to  my  brother  this  evening.  Craig 
must  stop  away  for  a  day  or  two,  and  you  shall  have 
your  talk  with  Dollie.  Don't  fret  any  more,  dearest,  I 
will  make  it  all  right  for  you."  And  Lady  Mary  spoke 
in  such  a  quiet,  determined  tone  that  Joan  was  quite  sure 
that  she  meant  to  carry  out  her  words. 

It  was  time  for  them  to  dress;  so,  after  a  grateful 
kiss,  Joan  hurried  away  to  bathe  her  flushed  face  and 
swollen  eyelids  and  rearrange  her  dishevelled  hair.  She 
was  ashamed  of  her  want  of  self-control,  but  the  tears  had 
relieved  her.  And,  although  she  was  a  little  pale  and 
subdued  for  the  remainder  of  the  evening,  Lord  Merriton 
would  not  have  discovered  that  anything  was  wrong  if 
his  sister  had  not  explained  things  to  him. 

"  I  am  sure,  I  don't  know  what  is  to  be  done,"  he 
said  in  a  perplexed  tone,  "  for  Craig  telegraphed  that  he 
should  meet  us  in  town  and  come  down  with  us,  and  it 
would  never  do  for  Hildegarde  to  be  upset  the  first 
moment  she  gets  home." 

"  Certainly  not,  and  I  should  be  the  last  person  to 
advise  anything  that  would  be  likely  to  worry  her.  But 
surely  neither  she  nor  you  would  mind  very  much  if 
Craig  deferred  his  home-coming  until  Monday?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  suppose  not,"  rather  reluctantly ;  "  only 
Craig  will  think  it  a  bit  strange,  I  am  afraid." 

"  I  think  not,  George.    If  you  will  give  me  his  address, 

I  will  write  to  him  myself  and  explain  matters  to  him, 

and  you  will  see  that  he  will  make  no  difficulty  about  it." 

And  Lady  Mary  soon  proved  that  she  was  right. 

Craig's  answer  was  entirely  satisfactory ;  the  news  of 


298  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Dorothy's  engagement  had  put  him  into  a  good  humour, 
he  said.  He  quite  approved  of  her  choice,  and  was 
anxious  to  give  her  his  fraternal  blessing.  Helmore  was 
certainly  an  elderly  brother-in-law,  but  he  was  a  decent 
fellow,  and  he  preferred  him  infinitely  to  Lord  Angus. 
As  for  deferring  his  visit  to  Brantwood,  Craig  was  quite 
explicit  on  that  point. 

You  may  tell  Joan  that  I  am  quite  willing  to  stay  away  a 
month  if  it  will  only  keep  her  longer  at  Morningside.  Of  course 
she  and  Dorothy  will  have  lots  to  say  to  each  other.  If  Monday 
is  too  soon,  you  can  just  write  to  me  and  say  so,  and  I  will 
not  turn  up  for  another  week.  Now,  dear  Aunt  Mary,  I  don't 
send  Joan  my  love,  first,  because  you  will  not  deliver  it ;  and 
secondly,  because  she  has  it  already. — Your  affectionate  nephew, 

Josselyn. 

Of  course  Lady  Mary  kept  the  contents  of  this  letter 
to  herself.  Being  a  prudent  and  conscientious  woman, 
she  only  told  Joan  that  everything  had  been  comfortably 
arranged.  Craig  was  quite  willing  to  remain  in  town 
until  Monday,  or  even  longer  if  they  wished  ;  "  but,  under 
the  circumstances,"  she  continued,  "  I  do  not  think  he 
ought  to  stay  away  more  than  those  three  days.  We 
will  ask  Dorothy  to  spend  the  whole  day  with  us  on 
Friday.  I  shall  very  likely  dine  at  the  Abbey  again  that 
evening,  and  leave  you  two  young  things  to  have  a  cosy 
time  together." 

But  Joan  would  not  hear  of  this  for  a  moment.  It 
was  her  last  evening  and  Lady  Mary  must  not  absent 
herself.  She  and  Dorothy  would  have  plenty  of  time  for 
talk,  and  they  would  enjoy  their  cosy  evening  all  three 
together.  "  You  know.  Dorothy  and*  I  never  find  you  in 
the  way  and  that  we  love  to  have  you,"  she  finished. 
And  Lady  Mary  was  only  too  willing  to  remain  by  her 
own  fireside. 


XXXVI 

"DON'T  SAY  ANY  MORE,  DOLLIE" 

Now  I  would  face  the  world  with  my  new  life, 
With  my  new  crown. 

How  soon  a  smile  of  God  can  change  the  world ! 
How  we  are  made  for  happiness — how  work 
Grows  play,  adversity  a  winning  fight ! 

Browning. 

Prudence  Rutherford  had  promised  to  come  over 
the  following  afternoon,  and  of  course  she  was  at  once 
informed  of  Dorothy's  engagement.  To  Lady  Mary's 
and  Joan's  surprise  she  took  it  far  more  quietly  than  they 
expected.  She  was  intensely  interested,  questioned  them 
eagerly  on  every  possible  detail,  and  showed  lively  tokens 
of  pleasure  in  her  friend's  good  fortune,  but  there  was 
no  expression  of  wonder. 

"  Why,  Prudence,  you  don't  seem  a  bit  surprised !  " 
exclaimed  Joan.  "  Surely  you  were  not  in  Dorothy's 
confidence  ?  "     Prudence  laughed  and  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  indeed.  Dorothy  is  the  last  person  to  write 
about  such  things ;  she  never  mentioned  Lord  Helmore 
in  any  of  her  letters,  though  she  generally  alluded  to  the 
girls,  especially  Orma.  The  fact  is,"  as  Joan  looked  at 
her  inquiringly,  "  I  think  I  take  after  my  great-grand- 
mother, Grizel  MacDonald.  She  was  a  Highland  woman,, 
and  had  the  gift  of  second  sight.  She  was  rather  a 
wonderful  person,  and  though  I  don't  pretend  to  inherit 
her  gift,  I  might  almost  say,  as  old  Dame  Willey  does 
sometimes,  '  I  feel  happenings  in  my  bones,'  for  certainly 
I  have  the  most  curious  presentiments.  I  had  quite  an 
odd  feeling  about  Dorothy  when  she  went  to  Templeton. 
I  remember  saying  to  myself  one  night,  '  Now,  I  wonder 
if  anything  will  happen?  '  " 

"  But  you  did  not  even  know  of  Lord  Helmore's 
existence  ?  "  observed  Joan  in  a  puzzled  tone. 

299 


300  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  No,  my  dear ;  and  even  when  Lady  Mary  mentioned 
him  one  day,  and  said  how  pleasant  it  was  for  Dorothv 
to  have  cheerful  young  companions,  I  only  pictured 
him  to  myself  as  a  sturdy  John  Bull — the  sort  of  pater- 
familias so  dear  to  Leech — with  side  whiskers  and  a 
generally  prosperous,  uninteresting  exterior.  But  from 
Lady  Mary's  description  he  seems  a  very  different  type  of 
person." 

"  You  may  be  quite  sure  of  that,"  returned  Joan ; 
"  but  oh,  I  do  wish  he  were  a  few  years  younger !  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  say  amen  to  that.  Dorothy  is 
just  the  sort  of  girl  to  be  perfectly  happy  with  a  man  old 
enough  to  be  her  father.  Oh,  Lady  Mary,  it  really  is  too 
delightful !  I  am  dying  to  tell  Morven,  he  will  be  so 
pleased."  And  Prudence's  plain  face  beamed  until  it 
was  quite  transfigured. 

And  after  that  they  gathered  round  the  fire  and  talked 
as  only  three  simple,  kind-hearted  women  can  talk,  until 
the  gathering  darkness  warned  Prudence  that  it  was 
time  to  go- home.  Not  that  she  minded  her  solitary  walk, 
for  every  one  knew  her  and  she  was  absolutely  fearless — 
on  winter  afternoons  she  would  carry  a  lantern  to  prevent 
her  from  stumbling  over  snags  and  tree-trunks — but  she 
knew  if  she  were  later  than  usual  Morven  would  leave 
his  comfortable,  warm  study  to  come  in  search  of  her. 

After  that  Lady  Mary  and  Joan  made  the  most  of 
their  few  remaining  days.  Lord  Merriton  was  too  busy 
to  give  them  much  of  his  company,  and  they  only  saw  him 
in  the  evenings.  Dorothy  wrote  again  very  briefly  to 
express  her  pleasure  at  hearing  that  Joan  would  remain 
at  Morningside  until  Saturday  afternoon. 

Tell  Aunt  Mary  that  I  shall  be  delighted  to  spend  Friday 
with  you  both.  We  must  have  a  long  walk,  Joan — you  and  I 
and  Rascal.  Of  course  I  am  very  sorry  to  leave  Templeton  ; 
I  don't  think  I  have  ever  been  happier  anywhere.  Aunt  Miriam 
is  such  an  old  dear.  She  and  Uncle  Rupert  spoil  me  dreadfully, 
and  they  are  so  pleased  to  think  that  I  shall  be  their  neighbour 
one  of  these  days.  Now  I  have  promised  to  go  out  with  mother, 
as  Aunt  Miriam  has  to  stay  in  and  nurse  a  cold,  so  I  cannot 
write  more. 


"  Don't  Say  Any  More,  Dollie  "       301 

When  Thursday  arrived,  Lady  Mary  went  up  to  the 
Abbey  to  receive  the  travellers,  and  as  she  intended  to 
remain  to  dinner,  she  had  begged  Prudence  to  keep  Joan 
company,  and  they  spent  a  very  pleasant  evening  together. 
The  carriage  which  brought  Lady  Mary  back  would  take 
Prudence  to  the  Rectory.  But  both  she  and  Joan  ex- 
claimed at  the  shortness  of  the  evening  when  they  heard 
the  carriage  wheels  outside,  and  Prudence  hurried  off  to 
put  on  her  hat,  that  the  horses  might  not  have  to  stand  too 
long  in  sight  of  their  stable. 

Lady  Mary  threw  off  her  evening  wrap  with  its  costly 
border  of  sable.  She  looked  tired  but  happy.  "  It  has 
been  such  a  pleasant  evening,  Joan,"  she  began  when 
Prudence  had  gone.  "  Lady  Merriton  looks  so  well ; 
she  has  certainly  gained  flesh,  and  she  had  quite  a  nice 
colour.  Of  course  she  was  a  little  upset  at  first,  that 
was  quite  natural,  but  we  made  her  lie  down  and  have 
some  tea,  and  then  she  talked  quite  cheerfully." 

"  And  Dorothy?" 

"  Oh,  Dollie  looked  really  pretty.  Justine  had  done 
her  hair  in  some  new  way  which  suits  her.  I  never  saw 
her  so  well  dressed,  and  her  engagement  ring  is  beautiful. 
Of  course  they  showed  me  Lord  Helmore's  photograph. 
I  am  sure  you  will  like  it,  Joan ;  it  is  such  a  strong,  sen- 
sible face,  full  of  character,  and  with  such  kind  eyes.  He 
has  iron-grey  hair,  and  has  never  worn  a  moustache. 
Lady  Merriton  says  his  mouth  is  his  best  feature." 

"  Did  Dorothy  talk  much  about  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  dear,  she  had  no  opportunity — we  were  not 
alone  for  a  single  minute — so  she  listened  while  her 
mother  talked,  or  went  off  to  help  her  father;  you  know 
what  a  good,  unselfish  little  soul  Dollie  is.  But  she  looks 
wonderfully  happy — oh,  there  is  no  doubt  of  that." 

"  I  suppose  she  will  come  quite  early  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  as  early  as  she  intended.  Lady  Merriton 
would  like  to  see  you,  Joan ;  so  Dollie  wants  you  to  go 
across  after  breakfast,  and  she  will  take  you  up  to  her 
mother's  dressing-room  for  half-an-hour  or  so,  and  then 
she  will  come  back  with  you." 


302  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Oh,  dear,"  sighed  Joan,  "  I  wish  I  could  have  had 
Dorothy  all  to  myself.  I  am  so  afraid  Lady  Merriton 
will  keep  us  talking  until  the  best  part  of  the  morning  is 
over." 

Lady  Mary  smiled  at  Joan's  petulant  tone,  but  she 
was  well  aware  that  this  would  probably  be  the  case. 
When  Lady  Merriton  was  interested  in  a  subject  she 
often  tried  her  listener's  patience. 

"  Oh,  I  have  guarded  against  that,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  Dorothy  suggested  a  walk  over  Sudlow  Hill,  so  I 
promised  that  I  would  take  my  work  and  sit  with  her 
mother  until  luncheon." 

"  Oh,  how  nice  of  you !  "  And  Joan  smoothed  her 
puckered  brow.  "  Well,  I  won't  keep  you  up  talking, 
for  you  look  dreadfully  tired,  in  spite  of  your  pleasant 
evening."  And  as  Lady  Mary  could  not  deny  this,  they 
went  upstairs  together. 

Directly  breakfast  was  over  the  next  morning,  Joan 
put  on  her  hat,  and  whistling  for  Rascal,  hurried  over 
to  the  Abbey ;  but  to  her  chagrin  she  heard  that  Lord 
Merriton  and  his  daughter  were  only  half-way  through 
their  meal.  Joan  would  have  waited  in  another  room, 
but  the  servant  told  her  he  had  orders  to  show  her  into 
the  breakfast-room  directly  she  came ;  and  as  the  door 
opened,-  Dorothy  jumped  up  to  greet  her  in  the  most 
loving  manner. 

"  We  are  shamefully  late,  Joan ;  father  only  came  in 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago;  but  you  won't  mind  sitting 
down  and  talking  to  us  while  we  finish,  and  then  we  will 
go  up  to  mother?  " 

Joan  smiled  and  nodded  assent.  She  was  quite  content 
to  sit  in  the  sunny  room  and  look  at  Dorothy,  and  to 
listen  to  the  Earl's  good-natured  platitudes. 

Lady  Mary  was  right,  she  thought,  Dorothy  had 
certainly  grown  prettier.  Her  features  had  always  been 
nice,  but  they  had  lacked  expression  and  animation,  and 
her  shyness  and  want  of  assurance  often  gave  her  a 
diffident,  uneasy  manner.     Lady  Merriton,  who  was  a 


"  Don't  Say  Any  More,  Dollie  "       303 

very  stately  and  imposing  dame,  always  seemed  to  over- 
shadow her  daughter,  and  Dorothy  was  only  too  willing 
to  remain  in  the  background. 

It  was  not  only  that  the  peacock  blue  serge  set  off 
her  fair  hair  and  delicate  complexion,  there  was  some 
subtle  change  in  her,  a  gentle  dignity,  a  new  air  of  repose 
and  confidence ;  and  Joan,  who  read  her  friend  like  a 
book,  needed  no  word  to  tell  her  that,  whatever  the 
difference  in  age  might  be  between  her  and  her  affianced 
husband,  Dorothy  had  found  her  rightful  mate. 

So  much  she  could  take  for  granted,  but  all  the  same 
she  longed  to  find  herself  alone  with  her  old  companion, 
but  she  knew  it  was  useless  to  attempt  to  hurry  the  Earl. 
He  had  a  wonderfully  hearty  appetite  for  a  man  of  his 
age,  and  he  liked  to  open  his  letters  and  grumble  audibly 
over  their  contents,  or  skim  the  newspaper  that  lay  beside 
his  plate,  reading  out  any  paragraph  which  took  his  fancy. 
And  he  saw  no  reason  to  alter  his  habits  on  this  particu- 
lar morning.  The  girls  looked  at  each  other — it  was 
impossible  for  them  to  talk  at  such  a  disadvantage.  But 
Dorothy,  who  had  been  disciplined  in  the  Early  Victorian 
school,  would  never  have  dreamt  of  begging  her  father 
to  finish  his  breakfast.  She  took  away  his  cold  coffee 
and  gave  him  another  cupful,  fresh  and  hot,  while  Joan 
fidgeted  and  muttered  under  her  breath.  She  was  saying 
to  herself,  "  Oh,  you  tiresome  old  dear,  why  don't  you 
see  that  politics  is  not  interesting  us  a  bit,  and  that  we 
want  to  be  out — out,  where  we  can  talk  to  each  other?  " 
But,  happily  for  Joan's  patience,  at  that  moment  Justine 
entered  with  a  message  from  her  mistress.  She  had  heard 
that  Joan  had  arrived. 

"  My  lady  is  up,  and  in  her  dressing-room,  and  will 
be  enchanted  to  see  Mademoiselle  Joan,"  observed  Jus- 
tine, and  this  at  once  made  a  diversion. 

"  Why,  Dollie,  my  dear,  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late, 
and  that  leading  article  is  so  good.  Run  along,  girls, 
don't  keep  my  lady  waiting,"  with  playful  mimicry  of 
Justine's  mincing  accents. 


304  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Lady  Merriton  received  Joan  very  kindly,  even  affec- 
tionately, and  when  she  had  asked  her  a  civil  question 
or  two  about  herself  and  her  belongings,  she  plunged 
into  the  subject  which  was  nearest  her  heart.  But  for 
Lady  Mary's  thoughtful  punctuality,  the  girls  would 
certainly  have  been  late  for  their  walk ;  for  once  Lady 
Mary  took  things  into  her  own  hands. 

"  Let  them  go  out  now,  Hildegarde,"  she  said  quietly ; 
"  it  is  Joan's  last  day,  and  she  wants  to  talk  to  Dorothy." 
And  Lady  Merriton  was  induced  to  let  them  go. 

Joan  seemed  as  though  she  could  not  breathe  freely 
until  they  were  out  of  sight  of  the  Abbey;  then  she 
consented  to  slacken  her  pace. 

"  Oh.  Dorothy,  you  sweet  thing,"  she  said  affection- 
ately, "  I  thought  I  should  never  get  you  to  myself !  " 

"  Father  was  rather  trying,"  returned  Dorothy 
placidly.  "  Since  mother  has  been  upstairs  he  dawdles 
far  more  over  his  breakfast  than  he  used  to  do.  I  always 
have  some  knitting  beside  me,  so  as  not  to  waste  time. 
But  I  was  up  quite  early  this  morning,  Joan,  and  had 
written  my  letter  before  I  left  my  room." 

"Your  letter?     Oh,  of  course,  to  Lady  Templeton." 

"  No ;  mother  will  write  to  Aunt  Miriam  " — and  here 
Dorothy  blushed  in  rather  an  embarrassed  way.  "  I 
meant  my  letter  to  Lord  Helmore."  Then  Joan  laughed 
and  gave  her  friend's  arm  a  loving  little  squeeze. 

"  But  you  don't  intend  to  write  to  him  every  day 
surely,  Dollie?  " 

"  I  don't  know — I  am  not  sure — but  I  think  he  would 
like  it.  He  will  be  coming  down  in  another  ten  days  or 
so.  He  says  he  wants  to  see  the  Abbey  and  Aunt  Mary. 
She  was  so  pleased  when  T  told  her  that.  He  will  only 
stay  for  two  or  three  days,  but  I  shall  get  mother  to 
ask  Prudence  and  Mr.  Rutherford  to  dinner." 

"  You  are  very  proud  of  your  lover,  Dorothy,  I  can 
see  that." 

"  Proud  of  him !  I  should  say  so.  Any  girl  would 
be  proud  of  such  a  man  " — and  here  Dorothy's  sweet 


"  Don't  Say  Any  More,  Dollie  "       305 

face  seemed  suddenly  illuminated.  "  He  has  the  noblest 
and  the  kindest  and  the  best  heart  in  the  world — Orma 
will  tell  you  that.    And  to  think  he  has  chosen  me !  " 

"  Well,  dear,  I  think  Lord  Helmore  has  done  rather 
a  wise  thing  for  himself,  and  Lady  Mary  thinks  the 
same." 

"  Oh,  that  is  because  you  both  love  me ;  but  I  shall 
never  consider  myself  worthy  to  be  his  wife.  When  we 
go  back  I  must  show  you  his  photograph.  Mother  says 
I  shall  look  like  his  eldest  daughter,  but  I  don't  mind  her 
saying  that  one  bit.  You  know,  I  never  cared  for  young 
men,  Joan ;  they  always  seemed  so  vapid  and  tiresome." 

"  There  are  exceptions  sometimes,"  remarked  Joan 
drily. 

"  Oh,  you  are  thinking  of  Craig !  Yes,  I  grant  you 
that  he  is  not  in  the  least  vapid."  But  Joan  did  not  want 
to  speak  of  Craig  just  then,  her  face  burnt  at  the  mere 
mention  of  his  name.  She  changed  the  subject  rather 
abruptly. 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  want  to  ask  you,  Dorothy — 
are  you  sure  that  the  girls  will  not  be  in  your  way  ?  " 

"  In  my  way !  "  in  quite  an  astonished  tone.  "  Why, 
my  dear  Joan,  I  shall  love  to  have  them.  We  are  already 
quite  on  sisterly  terms.  Even  Bee,  who  is  only  fifteen, 
and  such  a  darling,  calls  me  Dorothy.  And  as  for  Orma, 
it  will  be  quite  a  privilege  to  be  allowed  to  care  for  her. 
You  know  " — and  here  Dorothy's  manner  was  intensely 
earnest — "  I  never  did  want  to  lead  a  gay,  idle  life.  Lord 
Helmore  and  I  certainly  agree  on  that  point ;  he  loves 
his  library  and  his  books,  and  he  hates  London  almost 
as  much  as  I  do." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  told  me  all  this,  Dollie ;  you 
said  so  little  in  your  note." 

"  No,  I  could  not  write  about  it,  and  it  was  all  so 
fresh  then.  Joan,  I  must  tell  you  that  we  are  really  to 
be  married  in  the  middle  of  February ;  mother  does  not 
wish  us  to  wait  longer,  and  Lord  Helmore  seemed  so 
grateful  to  her.    It  is  to  be  a  very  quiet  wedding.    Violet 

80 


306  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

and  Bee  have  set  their  hearts  on  being  bridesmaids,  and 
as  their  father  does  not  mind,  there  is  no  reason  to  dis- 
appoint them,  and  of  course  I  must  have  Marjorie  and 

Cicely,  they  will  expect  it,  and,  Joan "  here  Dorothy 

stopped  and  looked  extremely  uncomfortable. 

"  Well,  what  of  Joan  ?  "  in  rather  a  low  voice. 

"  Oh,  you  know — the  old  promise — surely  you  cannot 
have  forgotten  it  ?  " 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  shall  hold  you  to  that  now  ?  " 
flashed  Joan  in  quite  a  fiery  tone,  but  oh,  the  pain  at 
her  heart  as  she  said  it ! — "  that,  under  the  circumstances, 
I  should  expect  to  be  present  at  the  wedding,  much  less 
to  be  one  of  your  bridesmaids?  Oh,  don't  say  any  more, 
Dollie,  it  hurts  me  too  much,  and  it  is  no  fault  of  yours !  " 
and  Joan  had  to  bite  her  lip  until  it  nearly  bled  for  fear 
her  emotion  should  overmaster  her. 

Dorothy  looked  at  her  sorrowfully.  No,  it  was  not 
her  fault,  she  knew  that.  She  would  gladly  run  the  risk 
if  she  could  only  have  Joan  with  her  on  that  day,  but  she 
knew  also  it  would  be  useless  to  plead  with  her  mother. 
"  Oh,  my  poor  Joan !  "  was  all  she  could  find  to  say,  but 
her  tone  was  full  of  loving  sympathy. 


XXXVII 

"I  SHALL  SEE  YOU  BEFORE  CHRISTMAS" 

It  is  easy  enough  to  be  pleasant 

When  life  flows  by  like  a  song, 
But  the  man  worth  while  is  the  one  who  will  smile 

When  everything  goes  dead  wrong. 

For  the  test  of  the  heart  is  trouble, 

And  it  always  comes  with  the  years ; 
And  the  smile  that  is  worth  the  praises  of  earth 

Is  the  smile  that  shines  through  tears. 

Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 

The  walk  to  which  the  two  girls  had  looked  forward 
so  eagerly  threatened  to  end  sadly,  but  Joan  with  an 
effort  pulled  herself  together.  "  I  won't  be  selfish — I 
won't  spoil  things  for  Dorothy,"  she  said  to  herself. 
Then  aloud — "  Let  us  put  all  that  out  of  our  minds, 
Dollie,  and  only  talk  of  pleasant  things.  There  is  so  much 
I  want  to  know,  and  it  may  be  some  time  before  we  are 
together  again.  I  expect  you  will  be  going  up  to  town 
in  another  week  or  two  about  your  trousseau  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so ;  mother  says  there  is  no  time  to  lose." 

"  What  a  pity  you  cannot  go  to  the  Grosvenor  Square 
house,  now  it  is  let  to  that  American  millionaire." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  rather  glad  than  otherwise ;  I  did  so 
hate  that  dismal  old  house.  Uncle  Rupert  and  Aunt 
Miriam  have  been  so  good  to  us.  Mother  and  I  are  to 
go  to  their  house  at  Albert  Gate  and  stay  as  long  as  we 
like.  They  never  go  up  to  town  at  this  time  of  year,  and 
we  shall  take  some  of  our  servants  and  make  ourselves 
quite  at  home.  Father  and  Craig  will  come  backwards 
and  forwards.  It  is  such  a  big-  house,  Joan,  and  so  bright 
and  cheerful,  so  nothing  could  be  better." 

"  But  you  will  spend  Christmas  at  the  Abbey,  as 
usual  ?  " 

S07 


308  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  I  imagine  so ;  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  spend  it 
anywhere  else.  Mother  said  something  to  Aunt  Mary 
about  joining  us  for  a  week  or  two,  but  she  said  she 
never  liked  to  be  in  town  in  November." 

The  subject  of  the  trousseau  occupied  them  until 
they  reached  home.  Lady  Mary  had  just  returned  from 
the  Abbey,  and  luncheon  was  nearly  ready,  so  they  had 
hardly  removed  their  walking  things  before  the  gong 
summoned  them  to  the  dining-room.  Lady  Mary  left 
the  two  girls  alone  until  tea-time,  and  excusing  herself 
on  the  plea  of  fatigue,  went  up  to  her  room  to  rest. 

Joan  sat  on  the  rug  in  the  firelight,  listening  with 
rapt  interest  while  Dorothy  gave  her  a  vivid  description 
of  her  future  home,  and  then  discoursed  quite  eloquently 
on  the  idiosyncrasies  and  good  qualities  of  the  Helmore 
girls.  If  Violet  was  charming  and  Bee  bewildering  and 
a  perfect  dear,  it  was  Orma  who  was  evidently  closest 
to  Dorothy's  heart.  "  I  never  knew  any  one  so  good 
and  patient  and  so  utterly  unselfish,"  she  was  saying  as 
Lady  Mary  re-entered  the  room. 

"Were  you  talking  of  Orma,  Dollie?"  inquired  her 
aunt  in  an  interested  tone.  "  Oh,  don't  stop,  I  believe 
I  want  to  hear  about  her  as  badly  as  Joan  does  " ;  and 
then  the  conversation  flowed  on  again.  Tea  was  brought 
in  and  the  lamps  lighted,  and  still  Dorothy's  budget 
seemed  inexhaustible. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening,  Joan  thought,  when  she 
recalled  it  afterwards.  She  and  Dorothy  sang  their 
favourite  songs,  while  Lady  Mary  knitted  baby  socks,  or 
looked  lovingly  at  the  two  fair  heads,  which  were  so 
close  together. 

When  Dorothy  had  taken  her  leave  and  gone  back 
to  the  Abbey,  Joan  took  her  old  place. 

"  Have  you  had  a  happy  day,  darling?  "  asked  Lady 
Mary,  as  she  put  aside  her  knitting-basket. 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  and  Dorothy  has  been  such  a  dear,  she 
has  told  me  all  I  wanted  to  know." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.  Now  you  will  leave  us  more 
happily."     Then  Joan  checked  a  sigh. 


"  I  Shall  See  You  Before  Christmas  "  309 

"  I  will  try  my  best  to  be  cheerful,"  she  said  a  little 
soberly.  "  But  of  course  I  shall  want  to  be  here  all  the 
time ;  all  the  more,  I  am  afraid,  when  I  think  of  your 
beings  here  alone,  while  they  are  all  at  Albert  Gate." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  have  my  brother  to  look  after  me ;  I 
don't  think  he  or  Craig  will  be  much  in  town."  Lady 
Mary  said  this  purposely,  that  Joan  might  not  think 
there  was  any  possibility  of  even  a  short  visit.  But  Joan 
cheated  herself  with  no  such  hope.  Craig  was  too  evi- 
dently on  the  war-path,  and  she  would  only  be  considered 
safe  under  her  brother's  custody. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Joan  should  take  a  mid-day 
train  from  Atherton,  and  that  Dunlop  should  accompany 
her.  They  would  drive  from  Waterloo  to  Charing  Cross, 
and  be  in  good  time  for  the  4.30  train.  As  Lady  Mary 
had  old-fashioned  notions  on  the  subject  of  young  ladies 
travelling  alone,  Dunlop  would  put  her  in  charge  of  the 
guard.  Lady  Mary  had  arranged  all  this  most  carefully, 
and  intended  to  drive  to  Atherton  with  Joan ;  but  when 
the  girl  joined  her  at  breakfast  the  next  morning,  she 
told  her  that  Dunlop  had  suffered  all  night  with  raging 
toothache,  and  would  be  quite  unfit  to  travel. 

"  I  shall  have  to  send  Willis,"  she  said ;  "  I  hope  you 
won't  mind,  dear?"  And  Joan  professed  herself  quite 
indifferent  as  to  her  escort. 

"  There  is  not  the  least  need  for  either  of  them  to  go; 
I  could  manage  quite  well  by  myself,  and  the  St.  Breda's 
guard  knows  me."  But  Lady  Mary  negatived  this  so 
decidedly  that  Joan  said  no  more. 

Joan  was  very  quiet  during  the  drive.  She  had  found 
plenty  to  do  that  morning,  finishing  off  her  packing  to 
spare  the  suffering  Dunlop,  and  then  she  had  to  go  over 
to  the  Abbey  to  say  good-bye.  Dorothy  walked  back  with 
her.  She  had  filled  a  basket  with  beautiful  flowers  for 
her,  and  there  was  a  box  of  grapes  for  Canon  Leigh  from 
the  Abbey  vinery,  with  the  Earl's  compliments.  Lord 
Merriton  loved  to  pay  these  little  attentions.  Joan  ex- 
pressed her  gratitude  rather  hurriedly. 


310  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

They  were  so  kind,  and  yet — but  no,  she  would  not 
think  of  that !  She  would  have  plenty  of  time  for  thought 
at  St.  Breda's ;  but  she  could  not  talk  even  to  Lady  Mary. 

"  I  know  you  will  tell  me  about  everything,"  was  all 
she  said,  as  they  stood  on  the  windy  platform  at  Atherton. 
When  the  train  came  in  sight,  and  Willis  went  off  to  look 
after  the  luggage,  they  embraced  almost  silently,  and  the 
next  moment  Joan  was  waving  her  farewell  from  the 
carriage  window.  There  was  only  one  other  passenger 
in  the  compartment.  Willis  had  settled  his  charge  com- 
fortably, and  had  withdrawn  to  the  farther  corner  with 
his  paper,  and  Joan  watched  the  flying  hedgerows 
absently.  How  long  was  this  to  go  on,  she  thought — 
this  dreary  game  of  hide  and  seek?  How  different  her 
lot  was  from  Dorothy's — dear  sweet  Dorothy — who  was 
going  to  marry  the  man  she  loved  and  idealised !  But 
no — there  should  not  be  one  grudging  thought  of  her 
happiness ! 

Joan  reasoned  with  herself,  but  nothing  could  lift 
the  weight  of  depression  off  her;  not  even  the  remem- 
brance of  yesterday  could  soothe  her.  To  think  that 
Dorothy,  who  was  like  her  own  sister,  would  be  married, 
and  she,  Joan,  would  not  be  allowed  to  be  present !  "  I 
wonder  what  Craig  will  say  when  he  knows  of  it."  she 
thought ;  and  then  the  train  showed  signs  of  slackening, 
and  Willis  took  down  the  packages  from  the  rack. 

"  This  is  Waterloo,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  I  will  find  a 
four-wheeler,  and  then  go  after  the  luggage."  Joan  as- 
sented wearily.  The  porters  were  keeping  pace  with  the 
train,  one  of  them  had  his  hand  on  the  door,  wThen  some 
one  else  took  his  place. 

"  Oh,  you  are  there,  Joan !  I  thought  you  would  take 
this  train."  Craig's  hand  was  holding  hers  tightly. 
"  Halloo,  Willis,  so  you  have  come  to  look  after  Miss 
Leigh?  Suppose  you  go  after  the  luggage  while  I  put 
her  into  a  cab.  You  are  going  to  Charing  Cross,  of 
course?  " 

tl  Oh,  yes,"   returned  Joan.      She  was  so  dazed  by 


"  I  Shall  See  You  Before  Christmas  "  311 

Craig's  sudden  appearance  that  she  hardly  knew  what 
she  was  about.  The  half-tender,  half-mischievous  smile 
with  which  he  had  greeted  her  had  warmed  her  through 
and  through  like  a  ray  of  sunshine.  O,  what  would  Lady 
Alary  say?  But  no,  she  could  not  think  of  that  now. 
The  present  moment  was  too  precious  to  be  lost ! 

"  Oh,  Craig,"  she  murmured,  as  they  crossed  the  plat- 
form, "  how  could  you  guess  I  should  come  by  this 
train  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  could  not  be  sure,  of  course,  but  it  came 
into  my  head  I  should  like  to  meet  you.  I  was  here  two 
hours  ago,  but  you  had  not  come  by  that  earlier  train." 
Craig  stated  this  fact  in  an  easy  tone,  as  though  he 
were  performing  quite  a  meritorious  action.  "  Jump  in, 
Joan ;  I  am  going  with  you  as  far  as  Charing  Cross. 
You  will  have  quite  half-an-hour  to  wait,  if  not  longer, 
and  I  will  get  you  some  tea.  All  right,  cabby,  the  man 
is  looking  after  the  luggage,  it  will  be  here  directly." 
And  Craig  took  the  place  beside  Joan. 

Willis  took  things  in  a  very  matter-of-fact  way  as  he 
directed  the  porter  to  put  the  dressing-bag,  the  box  of 
grapes,  and  flower-basket  inside  the  cab,  and  mounted 
the  box.  He  had  been  young  himself,  and,  as  he  some- 
times observed  to  the  excellent  Mrs.  Hartley,  "  Nature 
is  nature,  and  young  men  will  be  young  men,  and  act  up 
to  their  lights,  and  small  blame  to  them !  " 

The  young  couple  were  a  little  silent  at  first,  the  mere 
fact  of  being  together  seemed  to  content  them.  Joan 
was  thinking  how  nice  Craig  looked.  He  had  still  a  smart, 
soldier-like  appearance,  and  looked  so  well  groomed  and 
aristocratic  in  his  well-cut  clothes.  Without  being  a 
dandy,  he  was  always  well-dressed,  and  that  faint  deli- 
cate aroma  of  a  lately  smoked  cigarette,  hastily  thrown 
away,  was  simply  delicious  to  Joan. 

"  I  call  this  luck !  "  observed  Craig  cheerfully.  "  How 
fit  you  look,  Joan.  I  don't  believe  I  have  ever  seen  that 
fetching  hat  before.  I  wonder  if  you  are  half  as  pleased 
to  see  me  as  I  am  to  see  you  ?  " 


312  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"Oh,  Craig-!"  was  all  Joan  could  say,  but  she  was 
blushing  in  the  most  becoming  way. 

"  But  you  might  tell  me  so,"  in  a  wheedling  tone. 
"  Think  of  the  hours  I  have  been  kicking  up  my  heels  at 
this  confounded  station  !  " 

"  Oh,  not  hours,  surely?  " 

"  Well,  I  went  backwards  and  forwards — my  hotel  is 
quite  close ;  but  I  have  been  on  a  sort  of  treadmill  since 
my  early  breakfast,  so  I  think  I  deserve  an  answer  to  my 
question." 

"  Oh,  Craig,  you  know  quite  well !  "  As  Joan  looked 
hastily  out  of  the  window  he  could  see  the  pink  flush 
was  suffusing  her  fair  throat  and  ear.  Had  he  any  idea 
how  pleased  she  was  to  see  him !  she  thought.  But  prob- 
ably by  this  time  Craig  had  formed  his  own  ideas  on  the 
subject. 

They  were  both  a  little  sorry  that  Charing  Cross  was 
so  near ;  but  Craig  wasted  no  time,  Willis  had  his  orders, 
and  then  Joan  was  whirled  away  to  the  farthest  end  of 
the  refreshment-room,  and  settled  in  a  cosy  corner,  where 
tea  was  brought  to  them. 

It  was  Joan  who  began  the  conversation  as  she 
unbuttoned  her  gloves.  She  was  eager  to  know  whether 
Craig  was  really  satisfied  with  Dorothy's  prospects ;  and 
he  assured  her  without  a  moment's  hesitation  that  in  his 
opinion  nothing  could  be  more  satis  factory. 

"  I  think  Helmore  is  a  good  fellow,"  he  went  on, 
"  and  that  he  will  suit  Dorothy  down  to  the  ground. 
Dollie  is  rather  an  old-fashioned  little  person,  and,  except 
in  appearance,  she  is  not  particularly  young.  And  Hel- 
more does  not  look  his  age,  so  they  are  better  matched 
than  people  would  suppose.  One  could  dispense  with 
the  step-daughters,  of  course ;  but  then  nothing  is  perfect 
in  this  best  of  worlds — eh,  Joan?  " 

"  Dorothy  seems  quite  devoted  to  the  girls."  she  re- 
turned seriously.  "  I  don't  think  she  would  like  to  be 
without  them.  She  seems  to  look  upon  Orma  as  her 
mission  in  life.     You  should  only  hear  her  talk  about 


"  I  Shall  See  You  Before  Christmas  "  813 

her,  Craig!"  But  Craig  was  not* particularly  interested 
in  Dorothy's  prospective  step-daughters. 

"  The  mater  tells  me  that  the  wedding  is  fixed  for 
the  middle  of  February,  and  that  they  are  going  up  to 
town  in  another  fortnight  for  frocks  and  finery.  That 
was  rather  a  decent  idea  of  Uncle  Rupert's,  asking  them 
to  stay  at  the  Albert  Gate  house.  It  will  just  suit  my 
book  too,  for  I  did  not  want  to  be  at  the  Abbey  just  now. 
Isn't  it  droll  the  way  we  play  at  Box  and  Cox,  Joan? 
It  is  a  trifle  too  funny  sometimes !  "  But  Joan  had  no 
opinion  to  offer  on  this  subject,  and  certainly  the  comic 
side  had  not  struck  her;  so  she  only  answered  sedately 
that  she  was  glad  that  Craig  liked  the  idea  of  being  in 
town. 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  good  many  engagements,  and  of 
course  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  as  much  of  Dollie  as  pos- 
sible, but  I  expect  she  and  the  mater  will  be  awfully 
busy.  By  the  bye,  you  will  be  one  of  the  bridesmaids, 
Joan — that  was  an  old  promise,  I  remember;  so  for  one 
day  there  will  be  an  amnesty  and  the  hoisting  up-  of  the 
white  flag."  Craig  spoke  in  all  good  faith,  and  really 
believed  what  he  said,  but  Joan  stared  at  him  blankly. 

"  Why,  Craig,"'  she  faltered,  "  of  course  I  have  let 
Dorothy  off  her  promise.  How  can  I  expect  her  to  keep 
it  under  the  circumstances?  Lady  Mary  and  every  one 
knows  that  I  cannot  be  at  the  wedding." 

There  was  an  ominous  flash  in  Craig's  blue  eyes, 
but  he  did  not  speak,  and  Joan  went  on  hurriedly : 

"  We  had  a  long  talk  about  it  yesterday.  Dorothy  is 
very  sorry,  and  so  am  I,  but  it  cannot  be  helped,  and 
there  is  no  use  worrying  over  it.  Lady  Marjorie  and 
Cicely,  and  Violet  and  Bee  Helmore  will  be  the  four 
bridesmaids;  for,  of  course,  it  would  be  no  use  asking 
Prudence ;  I  believe  nothing  in  the  world  would  induce 
her  to  be  any  one's  bridesmaid." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  "  was  the  sole  remark  that  Craig  vouch- 
safed, but  it  was  evident  to  Joan  that  he  was  very  angry, 
and  she  tried  to  throw  oil  on  the  troubled  waters. 


314  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Craig,  please,  you  must  not  think  of  speaking-  about 
this  to  Dorothy.  It  is  quite  settled,  and  I  will  not  have 
the  dear  thing  worried.  Please,  please  promise  me  this." 
But  Craig's  face  might  have  been  carved  in  stone,  it  had 
grown  so  suddenly  hard. 

"  I  never  make  impossible  promises,"  he  replied ; 
"  but  we  have  no  time  to  discuss  this  now,  I  shall  have  to 
put  you  in  your  train."  Then,  as  Joan  rose  from  the 
table,  she  looked  at  him  so  pleadingly  that  he  relented 
a  little. 

"  Look  here,  don't  you  worry  your  head  about  it, 
Joan,"  he  said  as  they  walked  down  the  platform.  "  I 
don't  mean  to  quarrel  with  Dollie,  even  if  I  have  it  out 
with  her.  She  is  a  good  soul,  and  it  is  not  her  fault, 
for  I  know  how  much  she  cares  for  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  I  would  not  have  her  vexed  for  the 
world,  and  just  when  she  is  so  happy  too." 

"  Oh,  it  won't  hurt  her  to  rumple  her  rose-leaves  a 
bit,"  returned  Craig  calmly.  "  Ah,  there  is  old  Willis, 
and  he  is  beckoning  us  to  make  haste,  we  have  cut  it 
rather  fine."    And  then  they  hurried  towards  him. 

Joan  was  assisted  into  the  compartment  and  the  door 
shut  before  she  could  say  a  parting  word  to  Willis,  and 
as  the  guard  waved  his  flag,  Craig  put  his  elbows  on  the 
door  and  looked  squarely  into  Joan's  face.  "  Don't  worry, 
dear,  life  is  not  long  enough.  We  will  talk  about  this 
again,  for  I  mean  to  see  you  before  Christmas." 

"  Before  Christmas !  but  I  am  not  coming  home," 
exclaimed  Joan,  and  just  then  the  train  moved  on  and 
Craig  stepped  back. 

"  Never  mind,  T  shall  turn  up  all  right."  Joan  could 
just  catch  the  words  as  she  leant  forward.  Craig's  hat 
was  still  lifted ;  he  waved  it  with  a  final  flourish  of  adieu, 
and  Joan  sank  back  into  her  seat  with  a  happy  laugh. 
though  the  tears  were  in  her  eyes.  All  through  her 
journey  the  words  haunted  her  like  a  sort  of  refrain, 
which  seemed  to  keep  time  with  the  hurrying  train — "  I 
shall  see  you  again  before  Christmas — before  Christmas 
I  shall  see  you  again." 


XXXVIII 

CRAIG  BIDES  HIS  TIME 

'Twere  well  to  wait — 
The  pears  upon  my  trees  are  still  but  green, 
But  they  will  ripen  in  the  summer  sun. 
Our  vanity  would  do  all  things  at  once ; 
God  takes  His  time,  and  puts  us  all  to  shame. 
I  am  for  trust,  for  working  with  a  will, 
And  waiting  long  to  see  what  comes  of  it. 

Aaron  Watson. 

Canon  Leigh  was  at  St.  Breda's  station  to  meet  his 
sister,  and  he  greeted  her  with  such  warmth,  and  seemed 
so  glad  to  get  her  back,  that  the  girl  was  quite  touched. 

Joan  was  too  frank  by  nature,  and  had  too  much 
good  sense,  to  make  any  secret  of  her  meeting  with 
Craig;  at  the  same  time  she  meant  to  say  as  little  as 
possible  about  it,  so  she  took  advantage  of  the  opening 
her  brother  gave  her  as  they  drove  through  the  lighted 
streets. 

"  I  suppose  Lady  Mary  sent  her  maid  as  usual  with 
you  to  Waterloo  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  no ;  poor  Dunlop  had  had  no  sleep  all  night 
from  toothache,  so  Willis  escorted  me.  I  was  so  sur- 
prised to  see  Lord  Josselyn  at  Waterloo ;  he  came  with 
us  to  Charing  Cross." 

"  Lord  Josselyn !  I  did  not  know  he  had  returned  to 
town,"  observed  Canon  Leigh.  "  Now  I  wonder  if  the 
meeting  was  accidental  on  his  part?  "  he  said  to  himself. 
But  as  Joan  vouchsafed  no  information  on  this  point,  he 
did  not  like  to  question  her. 

"  He  seemed  very  pleased  about  Lady  Dorothy's 
engagement,"  she  went  on ;  "  indeed,  they  are  all  de- 
lighted about  it."  And  then  Heath  took  his  cue,  and  they 
were    still   discussing  the  impending  marriage  as  they 

315 


316  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

entered  the  Precincts,  and  they  drove  through  St.  Breda's 
Lodge  gates  while  Joan  was  informing  her  brother  that 
she  would  certainly  not  be  at  the  wedding. 

"'  That  must  be  a  great  disappointment,  my  dear, 
both  to  you  and  Lady  Dorothy  ?  " 

'*  Well,  yes,"  sighed  Joan,  "  but  we  both  know  it 
cannot  be  helped."  And  then  the  carriage  stopped,  and 
Silence  came  out  into  the  porch  to  receive  her. 

Joan  had  certainly  no  reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with 
her  welcome.  Silence's  sisterly  kiss  spoke  volumes.  And 
the  young  people  received  her  with  affectionate  hugs, 
and  assurances  that  they  had  missed  her  dreadfully,  and 
that  she  had  stayed  away  far  too  long. 

It  was  all  very  pleasant  and  home-like,  and  Joan 
tried  her  best  to  be  cheerful,  and  succeeded  so  well  that 
she  deceived  every  one  but  Silence.  But  then  it  is  always 
the  silent  onlooker  who  sees  most  of  the  game. 

As  Joan  drank  her  tea,  Wanda  and  Jess  told  her  all 
the  local  news  that  they  thought  would  interest  her. 

"  Mr.  Trafford  and  Dagon  are  at  Kenwyn,  Aunt 
Joan,"  Jess  informed  her  presently.  "  But  they  are  going 
away  again  almost  directly,  but  I  don't  know  where.  Do 
you,  Daddv  ?  "    Canon  Leigh  shook  his  head. 

"  I  did  not  ask  him.  The  fact  is,  Joan,  one  of  Canon 
Ramsay's  sons  is  coming  home  on  sick-leave  and  Trafford 
thinks  he  would  be  in  the  way." 

"  I  wonder  which  son  it  is,  Heath — surely  not  Basil?  " 

"  Well,  I  believe  that  was  the  name.  It  is  the  one 
who  is  a  missionary.  He  has  broken  down  from  over- 
work and  is  coming  home  for  a  long  rest." 

"  Then  it  is  certainly  Basil,"  returned  Joan  in  a  tone 
of  great  interest.  "  Oh,  how  delighted  his  father  will 
be !  I  must  run  round  and  talk  to  Mrs.  Ramsay,  to- 
morrow."   And  Joan  kept  her  word. 

She  found  Mrs.  Ramsay  and  her  nephew  together; 
Dagon,  as  usual,  making  a  sonorous  third.  But  the 
sleeping  partner  belonging  to  Trafford  and  Co.  roused  up 
at  the  entrance  of  a  friend,  and  the  visitor  had  quite  an 
ovation. 


Craig  Bides  His  Time  317 

Joan  thought  that  Mrs.  Ramsay  looked  younger  and 
happier  than  ever. 

"  Oh,  have  you  heard  the  news,  Joan?  "  she  asked  at 
once.  '*  Basil  is  actually  coming  home ;  he  will  be  here 
the  day  after  to-morrow.  The  poor  dear  fellow  has  been 
so  terribly  overworked,  and  his  doctor  says  he  must 
rest  for  at  least  three  months,  or  he  will  have  a  serious 
breakdown,  but  we  shall  soon  nurse  him  well " ;  and 
Felicia  spoke  with  quite  a  motherly  air. 

"  I  hear  that  Canon  Ramsay  is  very  excited  about  it." 

:*  Yes,  indeed ;  but  that  badly-behaved  nephew  of 
mine  only  laughs  at  us  both.  He  is  actually  going  away, 
Joan,  because  he  declares  that  he  will  be  bored  to  extinc- 
tion.    Did  you  ever  hear  anything  so  rude  ?  " 

"  Broken-down  missionary  at  breakfast,  luncheon, 
and  dinner — couldn't  stand  it !  "  murmured  Dick,  unfold- 
ing his  paper. 

"  Oh,  don't  listen  to  him,  Joan,  he  does  not  mean  a 
word  he  says.  You  have  no  idea  how  pleased  my  hus- 
band is  at  the  idea  of  seeing  Basil ;  he  is  devoted  to  all 
his  sons,  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  Basil  is  nearest  his 
heart." 

"  He  is  Joseph  and  Benjamin  rolled  in  one,  with  the 
virtues  of  both,"  remarked  the  irrepressible  Dick.  Then 
Felicia  gave  her  visitor  a  despairing  glance. 

"  I  shall  have  to  take  you  upstairs,  Joan.  We  shall 
never  be  able  to  talk  with  Dick  in  his  present  mood." 

"  Oh,  my  prophetic  soul,"  groaned  Dick,  "  as  though 
anything  could  check  that  unruly  member,  especially 
when  its  owner  is  a  female ! 

When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  babble, 
And  finds  too  late  tbat  tongues  betray, 

What  use  to  hush  the  chattering  rabble. 
Which  like  a  stream  will  have  its  way !  " 

"  Come,  Joan !  "  Felicia  spoke  in  a  gentle,  but  firm 
voice. 

" Pcccavi,  oh  my  aunt!"  and  Dick's  brown  face 
peered  over  his  paper.  "  Mum's  the  word,  as  sure  as 
my  name  is  Richard  TrafFord.     Look  here,  I  will  not 


318  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

speak  until  I  have  read  the  leading  article  from  beginning 
to  finish,  honest  Injun!"  and  here  Dick  buried  himself 
behind  a  wall  of  paper.  And  Joan  and  the  much-enduring 
Felicia  sat  side  by  side  and  talked  in  low  voices  of  the 
preparations  they  were  making  for  the  invalid. 

Felicia  took  Joan  up  presently  to  see  Basil's  room  in 
all  its  glory  of  new  carpet  and  curtains.  As  she  passed 
Dick's  chair  she  laid  her  hand  lovingly  on  the  dark, 
closely-cropped  head.    "  Good  boy,"  she  said  approvingly. 

Dick's  face  looked  as  impassive  as  a  heathen  Chinee's 
as  he  opened  the  door  for  the  ladies. 

"  Of  course  I  intend  to  leave  my  card  on  the  mission- 
ary," he  remarked.  "  In  early  life  I  was  taught  manners, 
and  I  have  never  departed  from  that  admirable  code  of 
minor  morals.  Never  cut  your  bread  with  a  knife  at 
dinner.  Conundrum  number  one — why  at  dinner?  Shut 
the  door,  but  do  not  slam  it.  Leave  a  card  on  any  fellow- 
creature,  provided  he  is  not  a  ticket-of-leave  man  or  too 
vulgar  for  recognition."  But  the  rest  of  these  words  of 
wisdom  were  lost  as  they  mounted  the  stairs. 

Mr.  Trafford  dined  at  St.  Breda's  Lodge  that  even- 
ing, and  Joan  never  enjoyed  his  society  more.  He  talked 
to  her  a  great  deal  about  Lady  Dorothy's  engagement, 
and  seemed  very  interested,  and  informed  her  of  his 
plans  in  the  most  friendly  way. 

He  thought  of  running  down  to  Herondale  Rectory 
first,  and  then  spending  two  or  three  weeks  at  Brighton. 
Later  he  intended  to  go  to  Engelberg  for  ski-ing  and 
sleighing.  "  A  fellow  I  know,  and  who  is  rather  a  chum 
of  mine,  has  been  ordered  by  his  doctor  to  go  there  after 
Christmas;  and  as  he  wants  a  companion,  and  I  hear 
there  is  capital  sport  to  be  had,  I  shall  be  able  to  combine 
benevolence  with  pleasure ;  and  the  missionary  can  re- 
main cock  of  the  walk !  "  finished  Dick  with  his  whimsical 
smile. 

Joan  soon  found  that  she  had  her  work  cut  out  for 
her.  The  morning  after  her  arrival  at  St.  Breda's  Lodge, 
Silence  told  her  in  her  grave  way  that  Heath  found  it 
necessary  to  entertain  his  friends,  and  that  a  dinner-party 


Craig  Bides  His  Time  319 

and  an  afternoon  musical c  and  reception  were  to  be  given. 

"  Of  course  I  could  not  refuse,  Joan,  and  I  knew 
you  would  be  here  to  help  me.  As  we  want  to  get  them 
over  before  Advent,  I  have  already  sent  out  the  invitations 
for  the  '  At  Home  ' — Heath  and  I  made  out  the  list 
together — and  we  are  to  have  the  dinner-party  a  few  days 
afterwards."  And  then  they  plunged  into  an  animated 
discussion  which  lasted  until  luncheon. 

Joan  knew  that  all  this  business  was  good  for  her, 
and  that  it  was  far  better  for  her  to  be  helping  Silence 
than  fretting  over  her  own  private  troubles ;  besides,  she 
had  Craig's  parting  words  to  comfort  her.  He  had 
promised  to  see  her  again  before  Christmas,  and  when 
had  he  ever  failed  to  keep  his  word?  Joan  in  her  secret 
heart  knew  without  doubt  that,  in  spite  of  their  separa- 
tion, Craig  never  forgot  her,  that  he  was  absolutely  true 
and  faithful,  and  at  times  this  thought  made  her  perfectly 
happy.  "  There  can  be  no  real  love  without  trust,"  she 
would  say  to  herself,  "  and  I  mean  to  trust  him  whatever 
happens." 

Lady  Mary  had  been  very  much  taken  aback  when 
Willis  informed  her  on  his  return  that  Lord  Josselyn  had 
met  them  at  Waterloo  and  accompanied  Miss  Leigh  to 
Charing  Cross,  but  she  concealed  her  dismay  to  the  best 
of  her  power.  Craig  was  too  much  for  her!  she  could 
only  hope  that  this  last  escapade  of  his  would  not  reach 
his  mother's  ears. 

When  she  encountered  him  next  in  the  Abbey  draw- 
ing-room, he  gave  her  one  of  his  keen,  quizzical  glances. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  rather  in  disgrace,  Aunt  Mary?  " 
he  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,"  she 
returned  with  unusual  spirit.  "  How  could  you  be  so 
naughty,  Craig,  when  you  know  I  trusted  you?  " 

'  Put  not  trust  in  princes  or  in  any  other  sons  of 
men  ' — when  they  are  in  love,"  he  returned,  quite  una- 
bashed by  this  rebuke ;  and  Lady  Mary-  was  too  much 
shocked  by  what  she  termed  his  irreverent  quotation  to 
think  of  any  adequate  reply. 


320  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Craig,  Craig,  you  are  incorrigible ;  I  will  have  noth- 
ing more  to  do  with  you  !  "  But  Lady  Mary  looked  at  the 
hardened  culprit  very  kindly.  Certainly  Craig  was  one 
of  the  fighting  Bastows,  she  thought. 

"  What  are  you  two  quarrelling  about?  "  asked  Lady 
Merriton  placidly.  "  Come  and  sit  down,  Mary ;  Dorothy 
and  I  have  so  much  to  tell  you.  We  have  not  heard 
from  Marjorie  yet,  but  that  dear  child  Cicely  has  prom- 
ised to  be  here  on  the  14th."  Then,  at  the  mention  of  the 
nut-browne  mayde,  Craig  beat  a  speedy  retreat. 

Craig  was  biding  his  time ;  in  fact,  he  was  pursuing 
a  Machiavelian  palicy — masterly  inaction  was  his  present 
plan.  There  was  no  hurry ;  even  one  of  those  mediaeval 
saints — he  had  no  idea  which — had  said  "  make  haste 
slowly,"  and  another  old  Johnnie  had  remarked  in  rather 
forcible  language  that  "  haste  is  of  the  devil." 

Craig  had  a  cool  head ;  he  was  a  bold  strategist,  but 
he  wished  to  marshal  his  forces  and  to  be  sure  of  his 
ground  before  he  offered  battle.  It  would  be  a  mistake 
to  hasten  matters  too  much ;  besides,  the  present  moment 
was  not  propitious. 

Dorothy's  thoughts  were  occupied  with  delightful 
anticipations  of  her  fiance's  approaching  visit,  and  her 
father  and  mother  were  busying  themselves  in  prepara- 
tion for  his  reception.  The  hot-houses  were  visited  and 
the  gardeners  interviewed ;  the  principal  guest-chamber 
was  to  be  renovated  and  freshened  up.  Both  Lady  Mer- 
riton and  her  daughter  were  surprised  to  find,  on  a  closer 
inspection,  that  the  carpet  was  faded  and  decidedly  worn. 

"  I  had  no  idea  it  was  as  bad  as  this,"  observed  Lady 
Merriton  with  much  solemnity  to  her  sister-in-law.  "  I 
am  afraid  several  of  the  bedrooms  require  doing  up. 
But  you  know  there  has  been  so  little  money  to  spend  on 

mere  decoration.     That  poor  dear  boy "     But  here 

her  voice  was  a  little  choked. 

It  ended  by  Lady  Mary  offering  to  go  up  to  town  the 
next  morning  with  Dorothy,  to  select  a  carpet  and  some 
warm  hangings  for  the  South  Room,  as  it  was  called. 


Craig  Bides  His  Time  321 

"  You  might  write  out  a  short  list  of  anything  else  you 
require,  Hildegarde,  as  we  will  sleep  one  night  in  town." 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  Even  Lord  Merriton  made 
no  complaint.  The  Grosvenor  Square  house  was  let,  and 
things  were  gradually  righting  themselves,  there  was  no 
need  to  grudge  a  little  outlay. 

"  Hildegarde  has  been  very  good,"  he  said  to  his 
sister ;  "  she  has  not  asked  me  to  do  up  any  of  the  rooms 
for  the  last  three  or  four  years,  and  I  am  afraid  some  of 
them  are  a  bit  shabby." 

Lady  Mary  had  made  up  her  mind  to  go  to  Maple's. 
There  would  be  no  difficulty  in  the  selection ;  she  and 
Dorothy  knew  exactly  what  they  wanted.  Lord  Helmore 
had  been  obliged  to  put  off  his  visit  a  couple  of  days, 
and  with  pressure  there  would  just  be  time. 

It  was  a  near  shave  though,  for  the  new  carpet  was 
only  in  its  place  and  the  hangings  adjusted  an  hour  before 
the  carriage  went  to  Atherton  station  to  meet  the  expected 
guest ;  but  the  result  filled  Lady  Merriton  with  admiration. 

"  You  have  done  splendidly,  Mary,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
am  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you.  Really,  Dorothy,  the 
South  Room  is  quite  the  prettiest  in  the  house.  It  always 
was  a  favourite  room  with  our  visitors." 

Lord  Helmore's  visit  was  a  complete  success.  He 
was  charmed  with  the  Abbey  and  the  woods,  and  made 
himself  so  agreeable  when  the  Rector  of  Herondale  and 
his  sister  dined  at  Brantwood,  that  Prudence  quite  fell 
in  love  with  him. 

"  He  is  my  ideal  of  a  nobleman,"  she  said  quite 
seriously,  "  and  one  can  see  he  is  a  good  man.  I  have 
no  fear  for  your  happiness,  Dorothy  " — and  Prudence 
gave  her  a  loving  hug. 

A  day  or  two  after  their  guest  had  left  them  the  whole 
family  migrated  to  town.  And  as  soon  as  they  were 
settled  comfortably  in  Lord  Templeton's  luxurious  house, 
the  mother  and  daughter  occupied  themselves  with  the. 
important  business  of  the  trousseau. 

And  Craig  still  bided  his  time. 

SI 


XXXIX 

"THE  WORDS  OF  THE  WISE* 

The  world  is  too  much  with  us ;  late  and  soon, 
Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers :    .    .    . 
We  have  given  our  hearts  away,  a  sordid  boon ! 

Wordsworth. 

Ask  thy  lone  soul  which  laws  are  plain  to  thee, 
Thee  and  no  other !  stand  and  fall  by  these ! 
That  is  the  part  of  thee. 

Browning. 

"  It  is  astonishing  how  much  one  can  do  in  three 
weeks,"  observed  Lady  Dorothy  in  a  triumphant  tone. 
"  But  then  mother  and  I  have  worked  so  hard." 

"  Have  we  only  been  three  weeks  in  town  ?  it  seems 
much  longer  " — and  Craig's  manner  was  a  trifle  bored. 
He  had  felt  rather  out  of  it  all  these  weeks  while  his 
women-folk  were  rushing  from  milliner  to  dressmaker 
most  of  the  day,  and  were  far  too  weary  in  the  evening 
to  pay  him  much  attention.  Craig  had  to  find  his  own 
amusements  and  look  up  his  old  friends  at  the  club. 
Perhaps  he  was  losing  patience,  or  had  decided  in  his  own 
mind  that  the  moment  for  action  had  come,  for,  on  learn- 
ing from  Dorothy  that  there  were  no  business  appoint- 
ments that  day,  he  had  rather  peremptorily  signified  his 
wish  that  she  should  go  out  with  him. 

It  was  not  a  specially  fine  morning,  somewhat  dull 
and  cold,  not  an  unusual  thing  in  the  middle  of  December, 
and  Dorothy,  who  had  been  very  hard-worked,  seemed 
rather  dubious. 

"  The  Park  looks  dismal,  Craig,  and  I  have  letters  to 
write."  But  Craig  refused  to  listen  to  these  flimsy  objec- 
tions. 

"  Never  mind  the  letters ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  You 
won*t  feel  cold  in  your  sealskin,  and  a  walk  will  do  you 

828 


11  The  Words  of  the  Wise  "  323 

good."  Craig's  tone  was  coaxing,  and  Dorothy  yielded 
without  further  protest ;  she  would  not  have  many  more 
walks  with  him,  she  thought,  and  he  had  had  rather  a 
dull  time  of  it  lately.  So  she  determined  to  make  herself 
pleasant. 

They  crossed  the  road  and  entered  the  Park,  which 
seemed  quite  empty  and  deserted  at  that  hour,  and,  as 
they  walked  on  quickly,  Dorothy  answered  her  brother's 
remark  about  the  length  of  their  stay. 

"  Well,  it  cannot  be  much  over  three  weeks,  as  it  is 
only  the  14th,  and  I  think  we  came  on  the  21st  of  Novem- 
ber. But  we  have  certainly  got  through  a  great  deal  of 
business." 

"  And  you  have  quite  decided  to  go  back  on  the 
18th?" 

"  Yes,  father  is  getting  fidgety,  and  if  it  comes  to  the 
worst  I  am  quite  sure  Aunt  Mary  would  come  up  to  town 
with  me  for  a  few  days  after  the  New  Year;  not  that  I 
think  it  will  be  necessary,  even-thing  has  gone  so  well, 
and  no  one  has  given  me  any  trouble  except  that  tiresome 
Marjorie." 

"  Oh,  I  was  going  to  speak  to  you  about  that.  Just 
wait  one  moment.  Father  told  me,  to  my  surprise,  that 
Helmore  is  coming  down  again  this  evening." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Dorothy,  blushing,  "  but  only  for 
two  nights;  he  has  to  see  his  lawyer.  He  thought  of 
going  to  his  club  this  time,  but  mother  would  not  hear  of 
it,  with  all  those  spare  rooms  empty." 

"  That's  all  right.  And  now  about  Lady  Marjorie. 
Mother  told  me  that,  though  she  is  coming  to  the  wed- 
ding, she  still  refuses  to  be  one  of  the  bridesmaids.  The 
mater  declared  that  you  would  have  to  fall  back  on 
Prudence  Rutherford." 

"  It  is  no  use  mother  saying  that,"  returned  Dorothy, 
with  a  frown  of  utter  perplexity.  "  Prudence  is  impos- 
sible, and  the  dresses  Cicely  and  I  have  chosen  would 
certainly  not  suit  her.  But  I  think  it  is  very  ridiculous  of 
Marjorie  to  say  she  is  too  old,  when  she  is  only  twenty- 


324  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

seven,  and  she  is  so  handsome  too!  Of  course  it  is  only 
an  excuse." 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do  then  ?  "  asked  Craig 
quietly. 

"Oh,  Marjorie  will  have  to  give  way!  Cicely  has 
promised  to  talk  to  her,  and  I  am  going  to  write  an 
imploring  letter ;  we  shall  carry  our  point  in  the  end. 
Nil  desperandum — eh,  Craig?"  and  Dorothy  smiled  up 
at  him.     But  Craig's  face  remained  grave. 

"  I  thought  it  was  an  old  promise  that  Joan  was  to  be 
your  bridesmaid  ?  "  Then  Dorothy  gave  him  an  uneasy 
glance.  Why  should  Joan's  name  be  mentioned  between 
them? 

"  Am  I  not  right?"  Craig  asked  the  question  a  little 
sternly. 

"  Yes,"  faltered  Dorothy.  "  And  of  course  we  are 
both  dreadfully  disappointed ;  I  would  rather  have  had 
Joan  than  any  one." 

"  Then  why  not  have  her?  "  Nothing  could  be  cooler 
or  more  matter-of-fact  than  Craig's  tone.  Dorothy  stared 
at  him  helplessly. 

"  Why,  Craig,  you  know  mother  would  not  allow  me 
to  have  her,  even  Aunt  Mary  never  expected  such  a 
thing.  Joan  and  I  had  a  long  talk  about  it ;  and  though 
we  both  felt  it  dreadfully,  and  it  really  has  made  me  very 
unhappy,  we  settled  that  nothing  more  must  be  said 
about  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  a  good  deal  more  will  be  said  about  it, 
Dollie,  unless  you  can  induce  the  mater  to  change  her 
mind." 

"  I  induce  her !  "  turning  very  red.  "  My  dear  boy, 
what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  when  you  go  home,  or  on  the  first  pos- 
sible opportunity,  you  must  have  it  out  with  mother.  Tell 
her  that  you  wish — that  you  ask  it  of  her  as  a  favour,  that 
Joan  should  be  one  of  your  bridesmaids — that  the  idea 
of  your  oldest  and  dearest  friend  being  absent  on  such  an 
occasion  makes  you  feel  quite  sad.  Pluck  up  spirit, 
Dollie,  for  once  in  your  life  and  dare  to  assert  yourself." 


"  The  Words  of  the  Wise  "  325 

"  Oh,  Craig,  how  can  you  ask  me  to  do  such  a  thing?  " 
returned  poor  Dorothy,  in  a  despairing  voice.  "  As 
though  anything  I  could  say  would  make  mother  change 
her  mind  !  She  knows  quite  well  how  much  I  want  Joan ; 
but  if  I  talked  for  hours,  nothing  would  induce  her  to 
consent.     If  only  I  could  make  you  see  that!  " 

"  You  might  as  well  ask  a  blind  horse  to  see  the  man 
who  is  leading  him !  The  thing  may  be  difficult,  but  it 
is  certainly  not  impossible.  Listen  to  me,  Dollie.  If 
Joan  is  not  at  your  wedding,  I  shall  not  be  present  either." 

"  Oh,  Craig,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  Dorothy  could 
hardly  believe  her  ears.  What  dreadful  thing  would  he 
say  next ! 

"  I  am  quite  serious,  and,  like  my  mother,  when  I 
make  up  my  mind  about  a  thing,  the  united  efforts  of 
the  family  would  not  move  me.  If  this  insult  is  put  on 
Joan — on  Aunt  Mary's  adopted  daughter  and  my  future 
wife — I  shall  certainly  manifest  my  displeasure  by  absent- 
ing myself  from  the  Abbey  and  the  church." 

Dorothy  was  almost  in  tears  by  this  time.  Craig's 
manner  was  so  stern  and  unyielding  that  it  was  impos- 
sible not  to  realise  that  he  was  in  earnest. 

"  How  can  you  be  so  dreadfully  unkind,  Craig — as 
though  you  thought  it  was  my  fault !  " 

"  I  mean  no  unkindness  to  you,  Dollie  dear,  and  I 
shall  be  sorry  enough  to  hurt  you ;  but  I  am  bound  to 
consider  my  own  interest  and  hers.  You  know  I  am 
engaged  to  Joan." 

"  Engaged !  "  Dorothy  stood  still  on  the  path.  Hap- 
pily they  were  in  a  secluded  part  of  the  Park,  and  there 
was  no  one  within  sight. 

"Yes,"  returned  Craig  calmly;  "but  she  is  not  en- 
gaged to  me.  Nothing  would  induce  her  to  be  until  my 
father  and  mother  give  their  consent,  but  on  my  side 
I  am  absolutelv  bound.    I  told  Lady  Cicely  so. 

"Oh,  Craig!" 

"  I  thought  it  only  fair  to  tell  her  the  truth,  and  she 
was  awfully  nice  about  it;  she  is  a  jolly  little  girl,"  and 
here  Craig  frowned  for  a  moment — he  never  cared  to 


326  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

recall  that  evening.  Lady  Cicely  had  been  very  friendly 
and  sympathetic,  had  made  pretty  speeches  and  sent  her 
love  to  Joan,  but  he  had  seen  a  sudden  shadow  cloud  her 
bright  face  for  a  moment,  and  there  had  been  a  little 
quiver  of  the  lip  which  told  him  something  he  did  not 
wish  to  know. 

"  If  there  be  any  trouble,  it  is  all  the  mater's  fault," 
he  said  rather  savagely  to  himself.  "  Lady  Cicely  is  a 
dear,  brave  little  soul,  and  she  knows  that  I  never  said 
a  word  to  her  that  the  whole  world  might  not  hear." 

Dorothy  was  too  aghast  to  say  anything  for  a  few 
minutes.  She  was  shivering,  but  not  with  cold,  and 
no  sealskin  could  make  her  feel  inwardly  warm  and 
comfortable.  Craig  considered  himself  engaged  to  Joan ! 
He  had  told  Cicely  so !    Oh,  what  would  her  mother  say  ? 

"  Craig,"  she  said  at  last  quite  piteously,  "  you  are 
making  me  so  unhappy.  I  did  so  hope  that  things  would 
be  peaceful  just  now."  And  a  tear  rolled  down  her  face, 
though  she  brushed  it  hastily  away. 

"  Poor  little  Dolly,"  and  Craig  patted  her  shoulder 
kindly.  "  But,  from  all  I  can  judge  of  Helmore,  I  fancy 
you  will  have  a  peaceful  time  presently."  Then  a  sudden 
inspiration  came  to  him.  "  Look  here,  my  dear  child, 
take  my  advice — when  Helmore  comes,  tell  him  all  about 
it,  and  see  what  he  says.  I  am  quite  sure  he  will  lend  you 
a  helping  hand.  I  had  an  idea  of  saying  something  to 
him  myself  in  the  way  of  apology,  if  I  did  not  turn  up 
for  the  ceremony,  but  you  had  far  better  explain  the  whole 
thing  to  him." 

Dorothy  pondered  over  her  brother's  advice  very 
seriously  on  her  return  to  the  house,  and  the  result  was, 
she  determined  to  follow  it. 

It  would  be  far  easier  for  her  to  confide  in  her  future 
husband  than  to  have  to  face  her  mother's  indignation 
and  shocked  remonstrances.  Besides,  she  had  already 
told  him  of  Craig's  infatuation  for  Joan  Leigh,  and  it 
had  appeared  to  her  that  he  had  been  rather  sorry  for  the 
young  lovers. 


"  The  Words  of  the  Wise  "  327 

"  If  Miss  Leigh  is  a  gentlewoman,  and,  as  you  tell 
me,  Lady  Mary  Boyle's  adopted  daughter,  it  does  not 
seem  such  a  mesalliance,"  he  had  observed. 

"  Yes,  but  Joan  is  poor,  and  father  says  Craig  ought 
to  marry  a  girl  with  money."  But,  though  Lord  Helmore 
said  no  more,  and  only  shrugged  his  shoulders,  Dorothy 
had  an  impression  that  he  did  not  wholly  side  with  her 
father. 

Dorothy's  unusual  seriousness  that  evening  told  Lord 
Helmore  than  something  was  amiss  with  her — she  was 
pale  and  silent — so  after  dinner  he  made  some  excuse 
and  carried  her  off  into  the  small  inner  drawing-room. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  dearest?  "  he  asked  as  he  placed 
himself  on  the  couch  beside  her.  And  Dorothy,  who 
needed  no  pressing,  repeated  the  substance  of  her  con- 
versation with  Craig  that  morning. 

"  He  really  meant  it,"  she  finished.  "  And  oh,  John, 
if  he  is  not  at  the  wedding,  mother  will  never  get  over 
it,  and  it  will  spoil  things  so!  " 

"  Of  course  your  brother  must  be  there,  and  Miss 
Leigh  too,  and  you  and  I  must  bring  it  about.  Don't 
look  so  sad,  darling;  it  only  wants  a  little  determination 
and  courage.  Do  you  know,  I  rather  admire  Josselyn 
for  sticking  to  the  girl ;  I  think  he  is  a  manly  fellow. 
However,  we  have  no  time  to  discuss  it  more  to-night ; 
besides,  you  are  far  too  tired.  You  must  get  a  good 
night's  sleep,  and  to-morrow,  while  I  am  at  my  lawyer's, 
you  must  talk  to  your  mother.  Tell  her  everything 
plainly  and  simply  as  you  have  told  me;  and,  above  all, 
make  her  clearly  understand  that  Josselyn  refuses  to 
attend  our  wedding  unless  Miss  Leigh  is  present." 

"  But  mother  will  be  so  angry  with  him,  and  very 
likely  she  will  make  herself  ill." 

"  We  must  risk  that,  I  am  afraid,  for  it  would  never 
do  for  your  only  remaining  brother  to  be  absent  on  such 
an  occasion.  And,  however  indignant  Lady  Merriton 
may  be,  she  will  certainly  have  to  yield  to  the  condition." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  so,  John  ?  "  rather  doubtfully. 


328  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  dearest.  Now  you  must  go  and  rest, 
and  I  will  tackle  your  father;  I  will  give  Josselyn  a  hint 
to  leave  us  together."  And  then  he  dismissed  her  half 
comforted.  Timid  as  she  was  by  nature,  she  felt  an 
infusion  of  courage  now  she  had  Lord  Helmore's  strong 
arm  and  wise  brain  upon  which  to  rely  for  guidance  and 
help. 

"  Oh,  how  good  he  is,"  she  thought  as  she  went  up  to 
her  room ;  "  he  is  taking  all  my  troubles  and  difficulties 
on  himself.  I  hope  father  will  not  be  too  trying.  Some- 
times he  gets  so  excited  when  things  go  wrong  and  he 
does  not  know  how  to  put  them  right."  Then  her 
thoughts  went  off  on  another  tack.  "  I  think  it  is  so 
splendid  of  John  not  to  care  about  money;  I  have  heard 
him  say  that  mercenary  marriages  are  generally  loveless 
ones."  "  I  don't  want  my  girls  to  marry  poor  men,"  he 
had  said  to  her,  "  but  I  shall  certainly  not  make  wealth 
my  first  consideration.  Luxury  is  the  sin  of  the  age. 
If  any  good  fellow  who  is  a  gentleman  comes  after  her 
and  tells  me  he  has  enough  to  maintain  her  in  comfort, 
I  shall  not  refuse  my  daughter  to  him  because  he  is  not 
a  millionaire's  son." 

"  I  love  John  all  the  better  for  his  unworldliness,"  she 
thought.  But  Dorothy's  conscience  pricked  her  when  she 
remembered  how  easily  she  had  acquiesced  in  the  family 
verdict  that  Craig  must  marry  money. 

No  one  ever  knew  how  Lord  Helmore  contrived  to 
tackle  his  future  father-in-law,  but  the  conversation 
lasted  long  between  the  two  men,  and  by  the  time  it  was 
finished  he  had  shown  Lord  Merriton  a  thing  or  two 
which  rather  astonished  him. 

"  Such  an  idea  never  entered  my  head,"  he  muttered 
more  than  once  to  himself.  "  Now,  I  wonder  what 
Hildegarde  will  say  " ;  and  once  he  said  this  aloud. 

"  You  must  give  her  time  to  get  used  to  the  idea,  and 
1  expect  she  will  take  to  it  very  kindly,"  returned  Lord 
Helmore  with  a  smile  which  was  at  once  shrewd  and 
humorous. 


XL 

"IT  SHALL  BE  AS  YOU  ALL  WISH" 

You  have  too  much  respect  upon  the  world: 
They  lose  it  that  do  buy  it  with  much  care. 

Shakespeare. 

There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will. 

Ibid. 

"  Dorothy,  what  is  this  you  are  telling  me  ?  you  must 
certainly  have  misunderstood  your  brother,"  and  Lady 
Merriton  spoke  in  a  tone  of  unusual  severity.  "  My 
son — my  only  remaining  son  refuses  to  attend  his  sister's 
wedding  unless  we  comply  with  this  preposterous 
condition !  " 

"  Dear  mother,  he  really  means  it." 

"  Then  he  is  either  mad  or  wicked ! "  with  strong 
indignation.  "  Why  should  a  little  country  girl  like  Joan 
disturb  the  peace  of  our  family  life  ?  " 

"  He  says  he  is  engaged  to  her,  though  she  refuses 
to  listen  to  him — he  told  Cicely  so.  He  says  he  does  not 
intend  it  to  be  a  secret  any  longer;  that  although  Joan 
is  free  on  her  side,  he  considers  himself  absolutely  bound 
to  her." 

"  He  told  Cicely  that ! "  in  an  agitated  voice,  and 
Lady  Merriton  grew  suddenly  very  pale. 

"  Yes ;  he  said  it  was  only  fair  to  her  to  let  her  know 
the  truth — that  Joan  was  the  only  girl  he  ever  could  or 
would  marry.  And,  mother  dear,  I  am  quite  sure  he 
intends  to  keep  his  word." 

Dorothy  was  discharging  her  commission  nobly.  Like 
many  gentle,  timid  natures,  she  was  averse  to  thrust 
herself  into  any  altercation  or  argument.  As  Craig  often 
remarked,  "  she  was  too  fond  of  taking  a  back  seat,"  but 

329 


330  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

Lord  Helmore's  sympathy  and  advice  had  fortified  her, 
and  she  had  worked  herself  up  into  a  feverish  condition 
which  passed  for  courage.  "  I  am  going  up  to  mother 
directly  after  breakfast,"  she  had  said  to  Craig  the  next 
morning,  "  John  advised  me  to  do  so,  and  I  will  do  my 
best  for  you." 

"  You  are  a  little  brick,  Dollie,"  he  returned  grate- 
fully ;  "  mind  you  buck  up  and  have  your  say ;  the  mater's 
bark  is  worse  than  her  bite,  and  she  will  have  to  give 
way,  you  know."  But  Dorothy  shook  her  head  mourn- 
fully. She  could  not  share  Craig's  optimistic  view.  Her 
mother  was  not  the  woman  to  change  her  mind  easily. 
Even  years  of  anxiety  and  trouble  had  not  humbled  her 
naturally  domineering  spirit. 

Dorothy  had  kept  back  nothing — had  not  sought  to 
soften  or  explain  away  the  truth.  When  her  mother's 
face  grew  pale  and  her  lips  twitched  with  angry  invec- 
tives, she  gently  reiterated  her  speech.  Craig  believed 
himself  engaged  to  Joan — actually  engaged.  He  consid- 
ered Joan's  absence  at  the  wedding  would  be  a  direct 
insult  to  her  and  him  too,  and  nothing  would  induce  him 
to  be  present. 

"  If  you  think  I  am  going  to  tell  your  father  this, 
you  are  mistaken,  Dorothy;  I  should  be  ashamed  to  do 
so. 

"  There  is  no  need,"  returned  Dorothy  quietly. 
"  John  talked  to  him  last  night.  Craig  wished  me  to 
explain  things  to  him,  so  I  did,  and  then  John  said  he 
would  talk  to  father." 

"  An  explanation  was  certainly  needful.  I  am  afraid 
Lord  Helmore  must  feel  justly  offended  by  Craig's  extra- 
ordinary behaviour." 

"  No,  mother,  he  was  only  very  kind  and  concerned. 
He  is  so  sorry  for  Craig;  he  seems  to  think  he  is  so  deeply 
in  love  and  needs  help.  So  he  offered  to  talk  to  father, 
but  I  have  not  heard  the  result  of  the  conversation. " 

"  Your  father  has  said  nothing  to  me."  Lady  Merri- 
ton  spoke  in  rather  a  bewildered  way.    If  Lord  Helmore 


"  It  Shall  Be  as  You  All  Wish  "      331 

were  not  offended,  it  must  surely  mean  that  he  had  taken 
Craig's  part?  If  all  her  men-folk  were  leagued  against 
her,  and  Dorothy  also,  how  was  she  to  maintain  her  point 
single-handed  ?  There  was  no  hope  of  Cicely  now.  The 
nut-browne  mayde  and  her  money  would  not  belong  to 
Craig.  Lady  Merriton  could  have  wept  as  she  thought 
of  this. 

"  It  was  very  late  when  father  came  upstairs ;  he 
would  not  have  disturbed  your  night's  rest  for  the  world. 
Very  likely  he  is  only  waiting  to  finish  his  business  letters 
before  he  comes  to  you."  For,  unless  they  went  out, 
Lady  Merriton  spent  her  mornings  in  her  sister-in-law's 
pleasant  sitting-room,  which  opened  out  of  her  bedroom. 
Dorothy's  surmise  was  quite  correct,  for  at  that  moment 
Lord  Merriton  was  dashing  off  his  last  business  letter 
at  a  great  rate,  in  his  anxiety  to  join  his  wife. 

"  Well,  Dorothy,"  observed  her  mother  in  a  tired 
voice,  "  I  don't  see  that  there  is  any  good  in  going  on 
talking ;  it  is  very  hard  that  you  are  to  be  upset  by  your 
brother's  selfishness  just  now.  I  will  hear  what  your 
father  has  to  say."  And  she  would  have  risen,  but  Dor- 
othy suddenly  knelt  down  b  i  side  her  and  held  her  fast. 

"  I  have  not  quite  finished,  mother  dear.  I  want  to 
tell  you  how  happy — how  more  than  happy,  it  will  make 
me  if  you  will  only  let  Joan  come  to  the  wedding,  and  be 
good  to  her  and  Craig.  Oh,  I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing, only  I  don't  know  how  to  express  myself ;  but  ever 
since  Arthur  died,  and  John  asked  me  to  be  his  wife,  I 
seem  to  see  things  differently.  I  never  quite  believed  that 
Craig  was  so  much  in  earnest,  I  thought  as  you  did  that 
he  might  in  time  care  for  Cicely ;  but  I  see  now  that  I 
was  wrong.  If  he  does  not  marry  Joan  his  life  will  be 
spoiled.  And  oh,  mother  darling,  don't  be  angry,  but 
John  and  I  think  he  ought  to  be  allowed  to  choose  his 
own  wife.  What  does  it  matter  if  they  are  poor.  What 
is  monev,  after  all,  compared  with  happiness  and  a  faith- 
ful love'?  " 

"  Eh,  what — bless  my  soul,  Dollie,  have  you  stolen 


332  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

a  march  on  me !  "  and  Lord  Merriton  came  fussily  into 
the  room.  "  I  promised  Helmore  that  I  would  talk  things 
over  with  you,  Hildegarde,  and  now  the  girl's  been 
beforehand  with  me."  But  the  Earl's  eyes  twinkled  as 
he  looked  at  his  daughter.  Perhaps  in  his  heart  he  was 
not  sorry  that  his  way  had  been  smoothed  for  him. 

"  Then  I  will  go  downstairs  and  leave  you  and  mother 
together."  And  as  Dorothy  kissed  her  mother's  hands, 
a  faint  smile  answered  the  mute  appeal  for  forgiveness. 
Never  but  once  before  had  Dorothy  dared  to  assert  her 
opinion,  or  to  contradict  the  home  ruler,  but  it  was  evi- 
dent that  her  boldness  had  given  no  offence,  and  she 
withdrew  with  a  light  heart.  She  had  done  her  best  for 
Craig,  and  she  must  leave  the  rest  in  her  father's  hands. 

"  Well,  Hildegarde,  my  love,"  and  Lord  Merriton  sat 
down  beside  his  wife,  "  I  have  lots  to  say,  but  I  hardly 
know  where  to  begin,  or  what  Dorothy  has  told  you." 

"  There  is  no  need  for  you  to  repeat  that,"  returned 
Lady  Merriton  coldly.  "  Dorothy  has  been  sufficiently 
explicit.  Our  son  has  set  his  parents  at  defiance,"  and 
there  was  a  trembling  of  the  muscles  under  her  chin 
as  she  said  this.  "  He  has  told  Lady  Cicely  that  he  is 
engaged  to  Joan  Leigh,  and  that  he  absolutely  refuses  to 
attend  the  wedding  unless  Joan  is  there  too.  Now, 
Merriton,  will  you  kindly  inform  me  without  any  further 
loss  of  time  what  Lord  Helmore  thought  of  this  insolence 
on  his  future  brother-in-law's  part?  " 

Lady  Merriton  did  not  always  measure  her  words 
when  she  was  talking  to  her  husband.  She  was  also 
accustomed  to  check  him  a  little  peremptorily  when  he 
was  inclined  to  wander  from  the  main  point.  She  had  no 
wish  for  recapitulation,  and  she  was  intensely  anxious 
to  know  Lord  Helmore's  opinion. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  Lord  Helmore  did  not  seem  to  take 
it  seriously  at  all.  There  was  a  smile  on  his  face  when 
he  said  of  course  Josselyn  must  be  present,  and  that  we 
must  put  our  heads  together  to  see  what  could  be  done, 
as  the  young  man  would  certainly  not  give  way." 


"  It  Shall  Be  as  You  All  Wish  "      333 

"  He  must  be  made  to  give  way,  Merriton  " — but 
there  was  no  assurance  in  Lady  Merriton's  tone. 

"  Tut,  tut,  that's  easier  said  than  done,"  returned  the 
Earl  good-humouredly.  "  Craig  has  a  pretty  strong  will 
of  his  own ;  he  takes  after  you  in  that,  my  dear.  But 
let  us  leave  this  for  the  moment,  there  is  something  inter- 
esting I  want  to  tell  you." 

Lady  Merriton  looked  as  though  she  were  inclined  to 
doubt  the  interest,  but  her  husband  hurried  on. 

"  Of  course  Helmore  told  me  in  confidence,  but  when 
I  said  I  had  no  secrets  from  my  wife — that's  true,  isn't 
it,  old  lady? — he  begged  that  it  should  go  no  farther." 

"  Yes,  I  understand ;  go  on,  my  dear." 

"  Well,  it  seems  he  and  Templeton  had  a  talk  the  last 
time  Helmore  dined  there.  You  know  what  a  nice  fortune 
Miriam  has  of  her  own,  and  so  well  invested  too.  We 
have  often  spoken  of  it,  and  said  what  a  pity  it  was  that 
there  were  no  children  to  inherit  all  these  good  things." 
And  as  Lady  Merriton  nodded  in  assent — "Well,  Temple- 
ton  told  Lord  Helmore  that  Miriam  had  just  made  a 
fresh  will,  and  that  her  money  was  to  be  divided  equally 
between  Dorothy  and  Craig." 

"  Oh,  Merriton,  is  this  really  true  ?  "  And  Lady 
Merriton  sat  up  erect  on  the  couch  in  her  excitement. 

"  It  is  as  true  as  that  I  am  sitting  here.  The  girl  has 
always  been  a  favourite  with  Miriam,  and  she  seems  to 
have  taken  a  great  fancy  to  Craig.  Just  think,  Hilde- 
garde,  what  a  relief  this  would  have  been  to  our  minds 
if  Dorothy  had  remained  single ;  and  even  now  it  wall 
come  in  handy  if  she  has  children  of  her  own."  Then 
a  softened  look  came  into  Lady  Merriton's  eyes. 

"  I  hope  she  will.  Think  what  a  joy  it  would  be, 
Merriton,  to  have  children's  feet  pattering  about  the  old 
corridors  at  the  Abbey !  " 

Lord  Merriton  patted  his  wife's  hand  kindly.  "  You 
were  always  a  baby-lover,  Hilda — but  it  will  make  old 
folks  of  us!  But  you  must  not  think  only  of  Dorothy, 
Craig  needs  his  share  of  the  money  even  more." 


334  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course — I  know  that." 

"  Poor  Josselyn's  extravagance  has  impoverished  the 
estate  sadly,  and  of  course  Craig  has  to  suffer  for  his 
brother's  improvidence.  But  Lathom  tells  me  that,  now 
the  Grosvenor  Square  house  is  let,  and  that  bit  of  land 
sold,  and  all  poor  Josselyn's  debts  cleared,  we  shall  soon 
get  to  rights ;  only  there  must  not  be  two  establishments 
for  the  next  three  or  four  years." 

"  My  dear  Merriton  " — rather  impatiently — "  this  is 
all  ancient  history." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but  I  am  repeating  it  for  a  purpose. 
Helmore  gave  me  an  idea  last  night  which  rather  took  my 
breath  away,  and  kept  me  awake  half  the  night.  We 
were  talking  about  Dorothy,  and  he  was  saying  how 
much  we  should  both  miss  her,  and  what  a  devoted  and 
unselfish  daughter  she  was,  and  so  on.  And  then  he 
said  suddenly,  what  a  pity  it  was  that  we  should  not 
consent  to  Craig's  marriage  with  Miss  Leigh,  that  his 
heart  was  set  on  the  girl,  and  that  Dorothy  loved  her  like 
a  sister.  '  She  seems  to  have  grown  up  amongst  you  all.' 
were  his  words.  '  Why  should  not  Josselyn  marry  her 
and  bring  his  wife  to  the  Abbey  ?  she  would  be  a  daughter 
to  you  both  when  Dorothy  has  left.'  Now,  Hilda,  my 
love,  what  do  you  say  to  Helmore's  suggestion?  I  tell 
you  honestly  that  I  see  no  objection.'  Then  Lady  Mer- 
riton tried  to  summon  up  her  indignation,  but  it  fell  a 
little  flat. 

"  Merriton,  you  surely  cannot  be  serious,  and  it  was 
you  who  said  that  Craig  must  marry  money  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  deny  it,  my  dear,  and  I  meant  it  too ;  but 
you  may  take  a  horse  to  the  water,  but  you  cannot  make 
him  drink  if  he  is  not  thirsty.  Craig  refuses  to  marry 
money,  or  to  marry  any  one  but  Joan,  and  he  is  a  good 
lad — the  best  of  all  my  sons,"  continued  the  Earl  in  a 
voice  of  strong  emotion.  "  And  he  has  given  up  his 
soldiering  to  please  us,  and  I  hate  to  see  him  restless 
and  unhappy." 

"  Oh,  Merriton,  Merriton !  "  in  a  worn-out  voice. 


"  It  Shall  Be  as  You  All  Wish  "      335 

"  Let  him  have  Joan,  peace  is  better  than  money," 
continued  the  Earl.  "  And  the  Abbey  will  be  so  dull 
and  empty  when  Dollie  has  gone.  I  am  fond  of  Joan 
and  so  are  you,  and  it  would  make  Mary  so  happy,  poor 
thing.  They  could  have  their  own  rooms  and  their  own 
servants,  and  I  will  keep  a  hunter  or  two  in  the  stables 
for  Craig.  Templeton  would  lend  them  his  house  when 
they  want  to  go  up  to  town.  Oh,  I  was  awake  for  hours 
planning  it  all.  Think  of  it,  dear  love,  and  I  am  sure 
you  will  see  the  advantages,  and  consent  to  make  the 
boy  happy." 

Lady  Merriton  pressed  her  husband's  hand.  "  I  will 
think  of  it,  I  promise  you  that,"  she  said  faintly.  "  But 
I  cannot  talk  any  more  just  now.  Will  you  tell  them  to 
leave  me  alone  a  little  ?  "  Then  the  Earl  kissed  her 
forehead  and  left  the  room,  tiptoeing  as  he  went. 

Lady  Merriton  lay  back  on  the  pillows  of  her  couch 
and  closed  her  eyes.  But  she  was  not  sleeping.  Never 
had  her  mind  been  clearer  or  more  active.  They  were  all 
against  her ;  one  by  one  Craig  had  won  them  over  to  his 
side.  He  would  marry  Joan,  and  nothing  she  could  do 
would  prevent  it.  It  was  clear  to  her  that  Merriton 
wished  it — that  the  thought  of  the  young  couple  making 
their  home  with  them  at  the  Abbey  was  delightful  to 
him. 

"  I  am  fond  of  Joan,"  he  had  said  to  her,  "  and  so  are 
you,"  and  she  could  not  deny  this.  And  yet  the  thought 
that  Joan  should  take  Dorothy's  place  as  the  daughter 
of  the  house  gave  her  no  pleasure.  Joan  was  not  sweet 
and  docile  like  Dorothy ;  she  had  a  will  of  her  own  and 
plenty  of  spirit,  though  she  had  her  good  qualities  too. 

She  stopped  at  this  point  to  marvel  again  over  Craig's 
infatuation.  If  only  Joan  had  been  beautiful  instead  or 
being  only  graceful  and  distinguished-looking?  Oh,  yes, 
she  was  certainly  that.  And  then  how  pleasant  it  used  to 
be  to  hear  her  singing  like  a  bird  as  she  ran  down  the 
corridors ! 

And  then,  all  at  once,  she  thought  of  Josselyn's  death- 


336  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

bed.  As  she  watched  her  boy  die,  was  there  any  room 
in  her  agonised  soul  for  worldly  schemes  and  thoughts? 
In  the  valley  of  that  shadow  one  treads  solemnly  as 
though  on  holy  ground. 

"  I  was  a  better  woman  when  I  prayed  beside  my 
Arthur,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  and  when  I  followed  him 
to  his  grave.  What  has  made  me  so  set  on  my  own  will 
since  then?  Does  the  devil  tempt  us  in  our  hours  of 
weakness?  It  seems  to  me  as  though  I  would  have  done 
anything  to  bring  about  a  marriage  between  Craig  and 
Cicely.    But  it  was  not  to  be. 

"  God  forgive  me,  for  I  have  been  a  selfish,  mercenary 
mother,  and  made  my  boy  unhappy.  I  have  sacrificed 
them  all.  Poor  Mary,  who  has  been  so  good  and  patient, 
and  Dorothy,  who  has  been  missing  her  friend.  Merri- 
ton  is  right — peace  is  better  than  money."  And  then 
Lady  Merriton's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

An  hour  later  she  entered  her  husband's  study,  and 
as  he  would  have  risen  in  his  astonishment  at  seeing  her 
there,  she  put  her  hand  on  his  broad  shoulder. 

"  Merriton,  I  have  been  thinking  about  it,  and  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  that  it  shall  be  as  you  all  wish. 
Dorothy  shall  have  Joan  for  her  bridesmaid,  and  if  Craig 
will  consent  to  bring  his  wife  to  the  Abbey,  I  will  try 
to  make  them  as  happy  as  I  can." 

"  God  bless  you,  Hilda  !    And  I  am  to  tell  him  this  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  you  may  tell  Dorothy  too,  for  all  this  has 
exhausted  me."  And  then  Lady  Merriton  gave  her  hus- 
band a  loving  look  and  went  back  to  her  room. 


XLI 

"I  NEVER  SAID  WHERE!" 

Yet  out  of  the  gloom  the  morning  star 

Shines  on  the  sky ; 
And  deep  in  the  heart  is  the  hope  always, 
That  there  may  be  better  and  brighter  days 

In  the  bye-and-bye. 

Adela  Wilkins. 

"  Only  four  days  to  Christmas,  and  Craig  has  made 
no  sign,"  Joan  said  to  herself  rather  dejectedly  as  she 
dressed  to  go  to  the  Cathedral  as  usual.  It  was  a  clear, 
cold  December  morning,  "  seasonable  and  not  unpleas- 
antly chill,"  as  Canon  Leigh  had  remarked  at  breakfast. 
"  But  all  the  same,  my  love,"  addressing  his  wife,  "  I 
should  advise  you  to  remain  at  home,  as  you  have  not 
quite  lost  your  cold."  And  Silence  submitted  to  her  hus- 
band's dictate  with  her  usual  amiability. 

Marital  authority  had  been  exercised  successfully,  but 
no  amount  of  fraternal  advice  would  have  kept  Joan 
away  from  the  Cathedral  that  morning.  She  could  not 
have  controlled  her  restlessness  indoors.  Each  day  she 
had  a  vague  hope  that  she  might  see  a  certain  tall  sol- 
dierly figure  take  possession  of  the  opposite  stall  in  the 
<^hoir. 

Craig  had  promised  that  he  would  see  her  before 
Christmas,  and  not  for  one  moment  did  she  distrust  his 
word,  although  his  continued  silence  somewhat  perplexed 
her.  She  knew  he  was  at  Brantwood,  for  he  had  dined 
tete-a-tete  with  Lady  Mary  one  evening,  and  the  latter 
had  remarked  in  her  letter  that  he  seemed  in  good  spirits. 
"  I  think  we  both  enjoyed  our  evening,"  she  observed. 

"Well,  it  was  very  puzzling,  thought  Joan ;  but  there 
were  still  four  days  before  Christmas.  And  then  she 
hurried  down,  as  she  knew  Heath  was  expecting  her  to 
walk  with  him. 

22  337 


338  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

There  were  not  more  than  half-a-dozen  people  at 
matins,  and  Craig  was  certainly  not  amongst  them.  Joan 
tried  to  forget  her  disappointment  and  to  attend  to  her 
prayers  without  distraction,  but  it  was  not  easy.  Poor 
human  nature  is  weak,  and  wandering  thoughts  are  as 
bad  to  combat  as  a  host  of  midges  on  a  summer's  day. 

Canon  Leigh  was  going  into  the  town  after  service, 
but  Joan  felt  too  depressed  to  accompany  him.  So  she 
slipped  away  and  took  a  solitary  walk,  which  made  her 
feel  a  little  better.  But  it  was  hardly  twelve  when  she 
entered  St.  Breda's  Lodge.  Prescott,  who  admitted  her, 
had  an  unwonted  air  of  excitement. 

"  There's  visitors  in  the  study,  Miss  Joan,"  she  said. 
"  The  drawing-room  fire  wasn't  lighted  and  I  was  forced 
to  put  them  there,  as  it  was  warm.  They  asked  for  you 
— there  are  the  cards."  And  Prescott  presented  them 
almost  with  awe.  Joan  tingled  with  nervous  excitement 
from  head  to  foot  as  she  read  the  names — "  The  Earl  of 
Merriton  "  and  "  Lady  Dorothy  Bastow." 

"  Yes,  they  asked  for  you,  Miss  Joan,"  continued 
Prescott ;  "  but  my  mistress  is  with  them."  But  Joan 
could  wait  for  no  more.  Prescott  had  wished  to  explain 
to  her  that  the  drawing-room  fire  was  burning  splendidly ; 
and  that  she  had  had  orders  to  lay  two  more  places  at 
the  luncheon-table.  But  Joan  could  not  have  taken  it  in. 
Lord  Merriton  and  Dorothy !  What  could  have  brought 
them  to  St.  Breda's?  Something  had  happened  or  was 
about  to  happen !  Joan's  knees  were  shaking  and  she 
was  a  little  pale  as  she  entered  the  study,  but  Lady 
Dorothy's  affectionate  hug  and  the  Earl's  unusually  warm 
greeting  soon  brought  the  colour  back. 

"  I  see  we  have  taken  you  by  surprise,  my  dear,"  he 
said,  kissing  her  in  his  old  fatherly  fashion.  "  We  have 
been  half-an-hour  talking  to  your  good  sister-in-law,  and 
she  has  been  kind  enough  to  ask  us  to  have  luncheon." 

"  If  Lady  Dorothy  and  Lord  Merriton  will  kindly 
excuse  me,  I  think  I  will  leave  you  to  talk  to  your  friends, 
Joan."     Silence   spoke   rather  nervously  and  seemed  a 


"  I  Never  Said  Where  "  339 

little  excited  and  agitated ;  but  Lord  Merriton  looked 
after  her  admiringly. 

"  A  fine  woman,  Mrs.  Leigh,"  he  observed — "  un- 
commonly handsome  too !  She  was  a  bit  shy  at  first,  but 
Dollie  soon  thawed  her.  Now,  Joan,  come  and  sit  down 
by  me,  for  I  have  rather  an  important  message  to  you 
from  my  wife,  and  we  have  come  all  this  way  to  deliver 
it.  Eh,  what,  Dorothy  ?  "  rather  irritably,  for  the  Earl 
hated  to  be  interrupted. 

"  Oh,  father,  don't  you  remember  " — rather  reproach- 
fully— "  that  we  arranged  that  I  was  to  give  my  own 
message  first  ? "  Then  Lord  Merriton  burst  into  an 
apologetic  laugh. 

"  I  quite  forgot ;  I  am  getting  a  bit  doity,  I  am  afraid. 
Well,  fire  away,  Dollie." 

"  You  shall  have  mother's  message  afterwards,  Joan 
dear,"  went  on  Dorothy,  with  a  sweet,  earnest  look,  "  but 
no  one  but  myself  must  ask  you  to  be  my  bridesmaid. 
You  and  Cicely  will  be  together.  It  is  all  arranged,  and 
I  mean  to  see  about  your  dress  to-morrow.  We  are 
spending  the  night  in  town,  father  and  I." 

"  I  am  to  be  your  bridesmaid  ?  "  faltered  Joan.  "  Oh, 
do  you  really  mean  it,  Dorothy?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  all  wish  it — mother  and  every  one ;  and 
Aunt  Mary  is  so  pleased.     Now  it  is  your  turn,  father." 

"  Well,  Joan,"  recommenced  the  long-suffering  Earl, 
"  my  wife  sends  her  dear  love  to  you,  and  begs  me  to 
say  that  she  is  very  desirous  of  having  a  talk  with  you ; 
and  as  she  is  not  strong  enough  to  undertake  a  journey 
to  St.  Breda's,  she  is  sure  that  you  will  not  refuse  to 
go  to  her." 

"  Refuse  to  go  to  Lady  Merriton !  "  with  a  deep  flush. 

"  No,  of  course  not,  you  are  far  too  good  and  well- 
behaved  a  little  girl  for  that.  So  you  will  just  pack  up 
your  things  and  come  back  with  us  to-morrow.  Your 
room  is  all  ready — Lady  Mary  told  me  this  morning — 
and  you  will  come  up  to  the  Abbey  and  get  your  talk 
over  with  my  lady,  and  then  we  shall  be  all  ready  for  a 
peaceful  Christmas." 


340  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Do  you  mean,  I  am  not  to  come  back  here?  "  in  an 
astonished  voice. 

"  Come  back !  Of  course  not.  Don't  I  tell  you  we 
^11  want  you,  and  don't  mean  to  let  you  go  again  ?  "  But 
he  had  told  her  nothing  of  the  kind.  "  I  can't  have  Lady 
Mary  left  alone  like  this.  I  told  Mrs.  Leigh  so,  and  she 
quite  agreed  with  me,  and  said  she  would  have  you  all 
ready  packed  for  the  early  train.    Sensible  woman  that !  " 

"  Father  wishes  you  to  join  us  in  town  as  early  as 
possible  to-morrow,  Joan,"  explained  Dorothy  gently,  as 
she  saw  the  girl's  bewilderment.  "  We  are  at  the 
Metropole,  as  it  is  more  central.  If  you  come  up  by  the 
early  train  we  will  meet  you  at  the  station,  and  you  can 
leave  your  luggage  there ;  and  as  I  have  made  an  appoint- 
ment with  Madame  Flaubert,  there  will  be  just  time  for 
her  to  take  your  orders.  We  need  not  trouble  about  the 
milliner,  as  Aunt  Mary  is  sending  up  one  of  your  hats. 
We  shall  get  a  hurried  lucheon  somehow,  and  father  is 
sure  to  order  a  tea-basket — he  always  does  on  the  shortest 
journey — so  we  shall  not  be  starved." 

Dorothy's  feminine  tact  made  her  mention  all  these 
minute  details ;  she  thought  it  would  make  things  more 
real  to  Joan,  who  still  wore  a  dazed  and  bewildered 
expression.  What  did  it  all  mean?  Joan  was  asking  her- 
self. There  had  been  no  mention  of  Craig — his  name 
had  not  been  breathed — but  Lady  Merriton  had  sent  her 
dear  love  and  wanted  to  see  her,  and  she  was  going 
home  for  good,  and  she  was  to  be  Dorothy's  bridesmaid 
and  pair  with  Lady  Cicely !  And  surely  this  was  suffi- 
cient joy  for  the  present. 

Canon  Leigh's  entrance  at  that  moment  interrupted 
the  conversation,  and  Joan,  suddenly  remembering  her 
duties,  carried  off  Lady  Dorothy  to  her  room  to  refresh 
and  straighten  herself  after  her  journey.  But  the  two 
girls  had  hardly  time  to  exchange  a  word  before  the 
gong  summoned  them. 

Joan  paused  on  the  staircase. 

"  You  are  sure  it  is  quite  true,  Dollie  ?  " 


"  I  Never  Said  Where  "  341 

"  Absolutely  true.  Oh,  I  know  so  well  what  you  are 
feeling,  dear,  but  you  will  wake  up  presently.  John  was 
wondering  who  would  have  the  pretty  sapphire  and  dia- 
mond bangle,  and  he  was  so  pleased  when  he  heard  it 
would  come  to  you." 

But  even  this  pleasant  piece  of  intelligence  did  not 
restore  Joan  to  her  normal  condition.  She  ate  her  lunch- 
eon in  a  sort  of  dream,  and  yet  nothing  escaped  her 
observation.  She  noticed  with  secret  pride  the  perfect 
ease  with  which  her  brother  entertained  his  distinguished 
guests,  and  the  alert  brightness  of  his  aspect  assured 
her  of  his  satisfaction ;  and  she  also  observed  Silence's 
shy  pleasure  in  Lady  Dorothy's  conversation.  Nothing 
could  exceed  the  Earl's  affability ;  he  talked  to  the  Win- 
chester boys  and  asked  Noel's  age,  and  made  pleasant 
speeches  to  Wanda  and  Jessica.  Jess  was  on  her  good 
behaviour  for  once — a  real  live  Earl  inspired  her  with 
awe.  "  Though,  after  all,"  as  she  remarked  afterwards  to 
her  mother,  "  he  was  only  a  nice  red-faced  old  gentleman, 
who  looked  more  like  a  farmer  than  a  nobleman." 

As  soon  as  luncheon  was  over,  Lord  Merriton  hurried 
his  daughter  away.  A  few  final  directions  were  given 
to  Joan,  which  Canon  Leigh  privately  noted ;  and  as  he 
had  a  call  to  make  in  that  direction,  he  drove  with  them 
to  the  station. 

Joan  woke  up  in  reality  as  the  carriage  wheels  were 
lost  in  the  distance.  The  children  were  gathered  round 
her  in  a  bunch,  full  of  noisy  lamentations  that  she  was 
going  away,  and  that  their  Christmas  would  be  quite 
spoilt  without  Aunt  Joan.  But  their  mother  promptly 
silenced  them. 

"  Don't  be  selfish,  children ;  your  aunt  would  far 
rather  be  at  Brantwood.  Now  there  is  no  time  to  waste 
in  talk.  I  am  coming  to  your  room,  Joan,  to  help  with 
your  packing." 

Joan  was  truly  thankful  for  her  assistance.  Silence 
was  always  so  collected  and  capable  when  there  was  any 
business  on  hand.     She  never  fussed  or  talked  as  some 


342  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

workers  do.  Joan  had  other  things  to  think  about  besides 
her  packing.  She  had  to  entrust  to  Silence's  care  all 
the  gifts  she  had  been  preparing  for  Christmas  for  the 
children  and  servants,  not  omitting  Heath  and  Silence 
herself.  There  was  even  a  pretty  little  remembrance  for 
Mrs.  Ramsay. 

When  the  packing  was  over  she  went  across  to 
Kenwyn  to  bid  her  friends  good-bye,  but  she  had  no 
time  to  linger  in  the  pleasant  fireside  circle.  "  I  have 
promised  tbe  children  to  be  back  for  tea,"  she  said  a 
little  breathlessly.  She  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  Basil 
Ramsay,  and  liked  him  very  much.  He  was  leaning  back 
in  the  luxurious  easy-chair  that  Dick  Trafford  had  appro- 
priated for  his  own  use,  and  looked  contentedly  at  his 
stepmother,  who  was  sitting  opposite  him.  Canon  Ramsay 
had  evidently  been  reading  aloud. 

"  Dick  is  coming  back  to  us  for  Christmas  and  the 
New  Year,"  observed  Felicia  placidly,  when  Joan  had 
hurriedly  stated  her  errand.  "  He  and  Basil  get  on  very 
well  together — don't  they,  Alick  ? "  Canon  Ramsay 
smiled  in  rather  a  humorous  way.  "  He  says  that  the 
missionary  is  more  highly  flavoured  than  he  expected, 
and  that  there  is  some  spice  of  fun  about  him." 

"  Dick  little  knows  what  a  pickle  you  were  in  your 
young  days — eh,  lad?"  But  there  was  a  tender,  fatherly 
gleam  in  Canon  Ramsay's  eyes  as  they  rested  on  his 
son's  face. 

When  Joan  took  her  leave  Felicia  followed  her  out 
into  the  hall. 

"  I  am  so  glad,  dear,"  she  whispered  ;  "  you  will  have 
a  happy  Christmas  at  Morningside  with  your  dear  old 
frien    " 

"Oh,  yes.  T  hope  so;  but" — blushing — "we  always 
spend  the  evening  at  the  Abbey — it  is  an  old  custom,  yon 
know." 

'  Yes,  and  T  love  old  customs — yule  logs,  and  mistle- 
toe boughs,  and,  above  all,  family  gatherings  at  Christ- 
mas.    There,  I  will  not  keep  you.     The  happiest  of  all 


"  I  Never  Said  Where  "  343 

New  Years  to  you,  Joan  dear !  "  But  though  Joan 
thanked  her  for  her  good  wishes,  her  heart  was  too  full 
for  much  speech.  What  would  the  new  year  bring  to 
her  and  Craig? 

Joan  did  her  best  to  make  the  children  happy  that 
evening,  but  she  was  thankful  when  bed-time  came. 
When  she  wished  her  brother  good-night,  he  put  his 
hand  under  her  chin  and  looked  at  her  very  kindly. 

"  Silence  says  that  I  must  not  talk  to  you  to-night 
or  you  will  not  sleep.  But  I  want  to  say  this,  Joan, 
whether  things  go  smoothly  or  not — and  in  my  opinion 
there  is  little  doubt  that  Lady  Merriton  has  changed  her 
mind — I  mean  to  come  soon  and  see  you  and  Lady  Mary, 
and  then  we  will  have  a  grand  palaver." 

"  Oh,  Heath,  will  you  really — how  kind  of  you !  WTe 
shall  love  to  have  you !  "  and  Joan's  eyes  sparkled  with 
pleasure. 

"  Then  I  will  not  fail  to  turn  up.  There,  God  bless 
you,  dear  child !  "  and  he  kissed  her  with  real  brotherly 
tenderness. 

Silence  followed  her  into  her  room,  which  looked  very 
cheery  with  its  blazing  fire. 

"  Dear  Joan,"  she  said  softly,  "  we  shall  all  miss  you 
very  much,  but  I  would  not  have  it  otherwise  for  the 
world,  and  I  am  more  glad  than  I  can  say  that  things 
seem  coming  right.  Now  I  want  you  to  promise  me  to 
go  quickly  to  bed,  and  try  not  to  think.  Remember  what 
an  early  breakfast  you  will  have,  and  the  day  will  be  so 
long  and  fatiguing." 

Then  Joan  assured  her  that  she  would  do  her  best. 
But  the  fire  had  died  down  to  a  smouldering  red  mass 
before  she  sank  into  a  sound  sleep,  and  it  seemed  the 
middle  of  the  night  when  the  housemaid  came  with  her 
morning  cup  of  tea. 

The  hurried  breakfast  was  soon  over  and  the  good- 
byes said.  Canon  Leigh,  who  was  aware  of  Lady  Mary's 
old-fashioned  notions,  had  fully  intended  from  the  first 
to  accompany  Joan  to  Charing  Cross.  But  he  said  noth- 
ing to  her  until  he  took  his  place  in  the  compartment. 


344  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

"  Oh,  Heath,"  she  exclaimed  in  distress,  "  the  idea  of 
putting  yourself  out  in  this  way  for  me !  " 

"  I  am  not  putting-  myself  out  in  the  least,"  he  returned 
coolly.  "  As  soon  as  I  have  seen  you  safely  with  your 
friends  and  have  settled  about  your  luggage,  I  am  going 
to  the  S.P.G.  for  those  books  I  wanted,  and  then  on  to 
the  Army  and  Navy  Stores.  I  have  quite  a  formidable 
list  to  work  off.  And  if  there  is  time,  I  shall  interview 
my  tailor.  You  know  I  am  always  rather  glad  of  an 
excuse  for  spending  a  day  in  town."  And  as  Joan  knew 
this  was  the  truth,  she  said  no  more. 

Lord  Merriton,  who  was  always  punctual,  was  on 
the  platform,  and  Dorothy  was  waving  from  a  cab  win- 
dow. Joan  had  hardly  time  to  bid  her  brother  good-bye 
before  she  was  hurried  into  the  vehicle  and  the  order 
given  to  drive  as  fast  as  possible  to  Madame  Flaubert's. 
Lord  Merriton  was  always  fussy  on  these  occasions,  but 
Dorothy  assured  her  privately  that  they  had  ample  time. 
Joan  was  fitted  and  everything  settled  before  Lord  Merri- 
ton turned  up  again  to  escort  them  to  the  restaurant.  But 
Joan,  who  had  small  appetite  for  her  luncheon,  was  glad 
when  it  was  over  and  they  were  on  their  way  to  Waterloo. 

"There,  didn't  I  tell  you  so?"  remarked  Dorothy 
triumphantly,  as  they  overheard  Lord  Merriton  give  an 
order  for  a  tea-basket. 

"  You  need  not  laugh,  Dollie,"  he  returned  good- 
humouredly,  unfolding  his  Graphic;  "  Joan  has  eaten  next 
to  nothing,  and  she  will  be  glad  of  a  cup  of  tea  by  and 
by."    And  he  was  right. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  they  reached  the  station.  As 
Lord  Merriton  put  the  two  girls  into  the  carriage,  he 
gave  some  order  to  the  footman  which  Joan  could  not 
hear,  and  the  man's  answer,  "  The  cart  is  here,  my  lord — 
Fenton  will  take  the  luggage  on  to  Morningside,"  also 
failed  to  reach  her. 

It  was  useless  to  try  and  discern  anything  in  the 
darkness,  so  Joan  leant  back  and  closed  her  eyes.  How 
delightful  to  think  that  she  would  be  with  Lady  Mary  in 


"  I  Never  Said  Where  "  345 

a  few  minutes!  She  had  to  keep  her  thoughts  concen- 
trated on  that  one  point,  for  anything  else  made  her 
giddy.  Then  she  suddenly  opened  her  eyes.  Surely  they 
were  turning  in  through  the  Abbey  gateway? 

"  What  does  this  mean,"  she  faltered ;  "  I  thought  I 
was  going  to  Morningside  first?"  Then  Dorothy  took 
her  hand. 

"  No,  dear,  Aunt  Mary  is  not  expecting  you  yet.  She 
knows  mother  wished  us  to  bring  you  straight  to  the 
Abbey — we  thought  you  understood  that."  But  Joan 
mutely  shook  her  head;  she  was  trembling  now  with 
nervousness. 

In  another  moment  the  carriage  stopped,  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and  she  could  see  the  brightly-lighted  hall, 
and  two  or  three  servants  came  forward.  But  it  was  not 
one  of  these  who  assisted  Joan  to  descend,  and  whose 
strong  warm  grasp  she  would  have  recognised  anywhere. 

"  You  are  punctual  as  usual,  father,"  observed  Craig 
in  his  genial  voice.  "  Good  evening  Dollie,  I  nearly  over- 
looked you.  Now  then,  Joan,"  with  a  change  of  tone 
intended  for  her  ear  alone,  "  will  you  come  with  me, 
please,  for  I  have  promised  to  take  you  straight  to 
mother?"  and  Craig  quietly  took  the  little  trembling 
hand  and  placed  it  on  his  arm.  "  Don't  be  nervous,  the 
mater  is  all  right."  Then  in  a  still  lower  tone — "  Joan 
dear,  were  you  not  wondering  a  little  at  my  silence  ?  But 
I  have  kept  my  word — I  said  I  would  see  you  before 
Christmas,  but  I  never  said  where ! " 


XLII 

"WILL  YOU  COME  TO  US,  MY  CHILD?" 

Take  joy  home, 
And  make  a  place  in  thy  great  heart  for  her, 
And  give  her  time  to  grow,  and  cherish  her ; 
Then  will  she  come,  and  oft  will  sing  to  thee, 
When  thou  art  working  in  the  furrows,  ay, 
Or  weeding  in  the  sacred  hour  of  dawn. 
It  is  a  comely  fashion  to  be  glad — 
Joy  is  the  grace  we  say  to  God. 

Jean  Ingelow. 

"  Mother,  I  have  brought  Joan !  "  Craig's  clear 
voice  quite  resounded  through  the  large,  lofty  room. 
Then  a  faint  flush  rose  to  Lady  Merriton's  cheek  as  she 
came  forward  with  stately  step  to  meet  them. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come  to  me,  my  dear," 
she  said,  as  she  kissed  the  girl  kindly. 

"  I  think  the  goodness  is  on  your  side,  Lady  Merri- 
ton  " — in  a  low  voice ;  "  you  know  I  am  always  ready 
to  come  to  you."  But  Joan  spoke  with  such  evident 
nervousness  and  embarrassment,  and  the  small  white 
face  looked  so  young  and  appealing,  that  Lady  Merriton's 
good  motherly  heart  responded  at  once. 

"  She  looks  tired,  Craig ;  you  had  better  bring  her 
some  tea."    But  Joan  negatived  this  very  decidedly. 

"  I  do  not  need  any ;  Lord  Merriton  was  so  kind,  he 
ordered  a  tea-basket  in  the  train.     And  I  am  not  really 

tired  at  all,  only "  here  Joan  looked  up  shyly  at  Craig 

from  under  her  long  eyelashes.  She  was  conscious  that 
he  was  watching  her,  and  it  added  to  her  embarrassment. 
Oh,  if  she  could  only  be  alone  with  him  and  ask  him 
what  it  all  meant !  But  Lady  Merriton  had  decided 
otherwise. 

"  Then  we  will  have  our  little  talk,  dear,  and  I  will 
send  Craig  away.     Tell  your  father  and  Dorothy,"  ad- 

346 


"  Will  You  Come  to  Us,  My  Child? "  347 

dressing  her  son,  "  that  I  will  see  them  later  on,  but  just 
now  Joan  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  disturbed." 

"  All  right,  mater,"  and  Craig  gave  Joan  a  quick 
glance  which  she  could  not  meet.  But  as  he  closed  the 
door  his  mood  was  so  joyful  that  he  broke  into  a  boyish 
whistle  which  reached  the  girl's  ear  and  made  her  tingle 
with  delight. 

"  Take  off  your  hat  and  your  stole,  my  child,  you  will 
feel  more  comfortable."  And  Joan  mechanically  obeyed. 
Then  she  took  the  low  seat,  so  snugly  screened  from  the 
fire,  which  stood  beside  the  couch,  and  waited  for  Lady 
Merriton  to  begin  the  conversation. 

Her  first  speech  rather  surprised  the  girl. 

"  I  hope  Madame  Flaubert  fitted  you  nicely,  Joan, 
and  that  you  like  the  dresses." 

"  I  thought  them  lovely — nothing  could  be  in  better 
taste.  Oh,  Lady  Merriton,  I  think  it  is  so  good  of  you 
to  allow  me  to  be  one  of  dear  Dorothy's  bridesmaids !  " 

"  I  mean  to  be  more  good  to  you  than  that,  Joan. 
My  dear,  will  you  listen  to  me  a  moment?  I  want  you 
to  understand  that  Lord  Merriton  and  I  had  no  personal 
objection  to  you  when  we  refused  our  consent  to  Craig's 
marriage  with  you." 

"  Dear  Lady  Merriton,  do  you  think  I  did  not  know 
— that  I  ever  expected  anything  so  impossible !  "  And 
Joan,  in  spite  of  her  glass  screen,  flushed  to  the  roots  of 
her  hair. 

"  I  don't  know  about  the  impossibility,  Joan ;  but  at 
that  time  it  seemed  to  us  that  it  was  Craig's  duty  to  marry 
some  girl  who  had  a  fortune  of  her  own.  You  know, 
of  course,"  in  rather  a  hesitating  manner,  "  that  we  hoped 
that  he  might  have  chosen  Lady  Cicely." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  returned  Joan  with  painful  eagerness, 
"  and  no  one  could  have  been  more  desirable.  It  seems 
to  me  that  she  has  everything  that  one  could  wish — 
beauty,  rank,  wealth,  and  the  most  delightful  tempera- 
ment." 

"  You  are  right,"  with  a  regretful  sigh.    "  But  it  was 


348  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

not  to  be ;  Craig-  had  set  his  heart  on  some  one  else.  You 
know  whom,  Joan." 

The  girl  hung  her  head.  "  I  did  all  I  could  to  dis- 
courage him,  Lady  Merriton." 

"  My  dear,  you  behaved  as  well  as  a  girl  could ;  Lord 
Merriton  and  I  have  always  said  so.  But  circumstances 
have  altered.  Our  daughter  is  leaving  us,  and  we  no 
longer  think  it  right  to  stand  in  the  way  of  our  son's 
happiness — our  only  remaining  son." 

Joan  was  silent.  Her  head  was  bowed  still  lower,  but 
she  was  listening  so  keenly  that  she  could  have  heard  a 
pin  drop. 

"  Dorothy  is  leaving  us,  and  we  shall  be  very  lonely. 
Dear  Joan,  will  you  let  bygones  be  bygones  and  com- 
mence afresh  ?  Will  you  come  to  us,  my  child,  and  be  our 
daughter  in  Dorothy's  place?" 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  in  a  startled  voice ;  "  I  am 
Lady  Mary's  adopted  child." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  with  an  indulgent  smile;  "but  you 
need  not  to  be  afraid  that  Lady  Mary  will  offer  any 
objection.  When  I  consulted  her  about  the  arrangement, 
she  actually  shed  tears  of  joy." 

"But  what  arrangement  do  you  mean?  I  am  very 
dense,  but  I  do  not  feel  able  to  understand." 

"  I  mean  that,  if  she  will  only  consent,"  and  here 
Lady  Merriton  took  the  girl's  cold,  clammy  hand  in  hers, 
"  Craig  should  bring  his  wife  here  and  make  the  Abbey 
their  home.  Will  you  come,  Joan,  and  cheer  two  lonely 
old  people,  my  love?  We  will  do  all  in  our  power  to 
make  it  a  real  home  for  you,  and  you  shall  be  our  own 
dear  child.  Only  tell  me  you  will  come."  Then  Joan 
raised  her  face  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  I  will  come  if  Craig  wishes  it,"  she  faltered,  "  and 
if  you  really,  really  mean  it."  Then  she  felt  herself 
drawn  into  a  motherly  embrace. 

"Thank  you,  my  dear;  then  that  is  settled  as  far  as 
you  and  I  are  concerned,"  returned  Lady  Merriton  in 
a  tone  of  relief,  as  she  rose  from  the  couch.    "  Now  we 


"Will  You  Come  to  Us,  My  Child?"  349 

have  only  to  ascertain  Craig's  wishes  " — and  she  rang 
the  bell,  rather  to  Joan's  dismay.  Surely  she  did  not 
intend  to  question  Craig  in  her  presence?  But  Lady 
Merriton's  next  speech  relieved  her. 

"  Of  course  I  am  aware  of  his  wishes,  or  I  should  not 
have  mentioned  my  plan,  but  I  am  sure  you  would  like 
a  little  talk  with  him."  And  then,  as  the  servant  entered, 
she  bade  him  ask  Lord  Josselyn  to  come  to  her,  and  as 
the  man  withdrew  she  followed  him. 

Joan  was  thankful  to  be  left  alone  even  for  a  minute ; 
she  left  her  corner  and  stood  by  the  fire,  and  tried  to 
calm  her  tumultuous  thoughts.  She  did  not  move  or  turn 
her  head  when  the  door  opened  and  Craig  crossed  the 
room.  The  next  moment  he  had  put  his  arms  round 
her  and  was  drawing  her  gently  towards  him. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  propose  to  you  a  third  time, 
Joan,"  he  said  in  her  ear;  "  it  is  your  turn  now  to  say 
something." 

"Oh,  Craig!" 

"  I  shall  want  more  than  that,"  kissing  the  soft  hair 
that  rested  against  his  shoulder,  "  so  you  may  as  well 
be  quick  about  it." 

"  Oh,  Craig,  I  don't  know  what  to  say !  " 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you,  and  you  can  repeat  it  after 
me,  as  they  do  in  the  marriage  service.  I,  Joan  Leigh, 
promise  in  all  good  faith  and  sincerity  to  take  Craig 
Bastow  as  my  wedded  husband,  and  to  love  him  all  the 
days  of  my  life."  And  he  would  not  let  her  off,  and  Joan 
had  actually  to  say  the  words,  though  he  could  hardly 
hear  them. 

Craig  laughed  a  little  triumphantly  as  he  kissed  her. 
"  Joan,  what  a  darling  you  are,  but  I  never  saw  you 
quite  so  shy  with  me  before." 

"  Tt  is  your  fault,"  she  said  unsteadily. 

"  Come  and  sit  down  and  let  us  talk  comfortably," 
he  said  coaxingly.  for  he  wished  to  put  her  at  her  ease. 
It  was  sweet  to  make  love  to  her,  but  he  wanted  her  to 
be  her  old  frank  self,  and  above  all  it  was  necessary  for 


350  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

him  to  find  out  what  she  thought  of  his  mother's  plan; 
so  he  put  the  question  to  her. 

Joan  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"  I  told  Lady  Merriton  that  I  would  do  what  you 
wished.    Are  you  sure  that  it  will  suit  you,  Craig?  " 

"  It  will  suit  me  down  to  the  ground,"  he  said  cheer- 
fully, "  for  it  will  enable  us  to  get  married  as  soon  as 
we  like.  We  might  have  had  to  wait  a  year  or  two  if 
there  had  been  a  question  of  a  second  establishment." 

"  I  think  your  mother  really  wishes  it,"  she  whispered. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  Think  of  this  great  house  and  all 
those  empty  rooms,  and  the  poor  old  people  sitting  like 
Darby  and  Joan  on  each  side  of  the  fireplace." 

"  But  you  would  be  there,  Craig?  " 

"  Should  I  ?  "  mischievously ;  "  I  think  I  should  be 
oftener  at  Morningside.  What  a  nuisance  Aunt  Mary 
would  have  found  me !  By  the  bye,  Joan,  did  the  mater 
tell  you  how  charmed  Aunt  Mary  is  with  the  arrange- 
ment?   She  can't  speak  of  it  without  tears  in  her  eyes." 

"Dear  Lady  Mary!     I  am  so  glad." 

"  We  were  talking  about  it  when  I  dined  there,"  went 
on  Craig,  "  and  she  told  me  that  she  regarded  it  as  provi- 
dential. '  I  was  always  so  afraid  of  Joan  marrying  some 
day,'  she  said,  '  and  living  far  away  from  me.  But  if 
she  is  at  the  Abbey  we  shall  be  together  every  day,  for 
I  know  you  will  not  begrudge  your  wife  to  me  some- 
times.' By  the  bye,  darling,  you  will  have  to  call  her 
'  Aunt  Mary  '  soon." 

"  Oh,  no,  T  like  the  old  name,  Craig,"  caressing  his 
coat-sleeve.  "  You  won't  mind  if  I  love  her  best,  will 
you?" 

"Better  than  me?"  with  a  sudden  flash  of  his  blue 
eyes.    "  I  should  think  I  would  mind !  " 

"Oh,  don't  be  so  absurd,  Craig!  Of  course  T  did 
not  mean  you  ;  I  was  speaking  of  your  mother."  Then 
Craig  burst  into  a  fit  of  boyish  laughter  that  was  delight- 
ful to  hear. 

"  I  only  meant  that  Lady  Mary  has  been  a  mother  to 


"  Will  You  Come  to  Us,  My  Child? "  351 

me  ever  since  dear  mother  died,  and  she  calls  me  her 
adopted  child.  We  do  love  each  other  so  dearly,  Craig-, 
and  I  could  not  put  any  one  else  in  her  place." 

"  Of  course  not ;  the  mater  would  not  expect  it, 
darling.  But  I  know  you  will  be  good  to  the  old  people 
for  my  sake." 

"  Yes,  indeed  " ;  and  here  Joan  gave  him  a  shy,  sweet 
look  which  made  the  young  man's  pulses  beat  more 
quickly.  "  Somehow  it  seems  too  wonderful  to  be  true, 
as  though  I  have  done  nothing  to  deserve  such  happiness. 
No,  please  let  me  finish,  there  is  something  I  want  to  say. 
You  have  been  so  faithful,  Craig,  but  sometimes  I  ask 
myself  how  you  can  care  for  me  so  much  when  I  am  not 
pretty  or  charming  like  Lady  Cicely." 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  returned  Craig  frankly, 
"  I  never  was  good  at  definitions.  I  cared  for  you,  as 
you  call  it,  just  because  you  were  Joan,  and  it  was  Joan 
I  wanted  and  not  Lady  Cicely  or  any  one  else.  You 
are  charming  enough  in  my  eyes.  It  is  Joan  and  Joan 
only  whom  I  love  with  my  whole  heart." 

"  How  nice,"  murmured  the  girl,  nestling  closer  to 
him.  "  Oh,  Craig,  you  must  help  me  to  be  worthy  of  my 
position  ;  I  want  to  justify  your  choice  if  I  can." 

"I  have  no  fear  on  that  score,"  he  returned;  "you 
will  do  grandly,  sweetheart,  and  astonish  them  all.  By 
the  bye,  when  you  are  Lady  Josselyn  my  mother  or  Lady 
Mary  will  have  to  present  you." 

"  Don't,  Craig,  I  can't  think  of  all  that  just  now." 
Joan's  cup  of  joy  was  full  to  the  brim — very  little  would 
cause  it  to  overflow. 

It  was  the  man,  not  his  position  she  loved.  The  idea 
that  she  would  one  day  be  a  countess  hardly  weighed 
in  the  balance  at  all.  At  the  present  moment  the  thought 
of  her  prospective  glories  rather  alarmed  her  than  other- 
wise. Her  one  idea  was  that  Craig  and  she  would  never 
be  separated. 

"  God  has  been  very  good  to  me,"  she  whispered,  as 
later  on  they  sat  hand  in  hand  in  the  firelight ;  "  I  do 


352  The  Key  of  the  Unknown 

not  deserve  to  be  so  very  happy."  But  before  Craig 
could  answer  this  Dorothy  came  into  the  room. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  to  interrupt  you  dear  people,"  she 
said,  "  but  you  have  evidently  no  idea  how  late  it  is. 
Aunt  Mary  has  just  sent  across  to  ask  if  you  are  dining 
here."     Then  Joan  rose  in  some  confusion. 

"  Don't  flurry  yourself,  Joan,"  observed  Craig  calmly  ; 
"  I  will  walk  across  with  you,  and  we  will  make  our 
apologies  together.  Aunt  Mary  is  a  good  sort,  and  she 
will  understand  all  about  it."    And  he  was  right 


It  was  early  in  June — the  month  of  roses — and  the 
eve  of  Joan's  wedding  day.  It  had  been  a  long,  exciting 
day,  for  Canon  Leigh  and  his  wife  and  daughters  had 
arrived  at  Morningside,  and  Richard  Trafford  and  the 
three  boys  had  taken  up  their  quarters  at  Herondale 
Rectory.  The  Abbey  was  full  to  overflowing,  for  Lady 
Helmore  and  her  husband,  the  Templetons,  and  other 
distant  relations  of  the  Merritons  had  taken  possession 
of  the  spare  rooms ;  amongst  them  Lady  Cicely  and  her 
cousin,  Lady  Marjorie  Colvin,  now  engaged  to  the  Rev. 
Morven  Rutherford. 

Lady  Mary,  who  was  a  little  weary  with  all  the  excite- 
ment and  bustle,  had  excused  herself  to  her  guests  and 
gone  up  early  to  her  dressing-room,  and  after  a  short 
interval  Joan  had  followed  her.  Evidently  Lady  Mary 
was  expecting  her,  for  she  pointed  smilingly  to  a  low 
ottoman  which  stood  beside  her  easy-chair. 

"  You  are  sure  Heath  and  Silence  do  not  mind  spar- 
ing you  to  me  this  evening?  "  she  asked  a  little  anxiously. 

"  No,  indeed,  they  quite  understand.  Silence  has 
gone  upstairs  with  Jess,  and  Heath  is  reading  as  com- 
fortably as  possible.  They  know  we  want  to  be  alone 
together  this  last  evening." 

"  The  last  evening  you  will  be  Joan  Leigh !  "  smooth- 
ing the  fair  hair  fondly. 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  girl  dreamily.    "  Doesn't  it  seem 


"  Will  You  Come  to  Us,  My  Child? "  353 

wonderful!  When  I  think  of  to-morrow  and  all  those 
people  at  the  Abbey,  it  makes  me  quite  giddy."  But  to 
herself  she  was  saying  softly — "  To-morrow  I  shall  be 
Craig's  wife." 

"  Yes,  it  is  wonderful,"  replied  Lady  Mary  gently. 
"  How  little  we  thought  last  June,  darling,  that  our 
troubles  would  end  so  happily!  I  have  just  been  reading 
the  evening  Psalm;  it  is  so  sweetly  appropriate,  Joan. 
'  Commit  thy  way  unto  the  Lord,  and  put  thy  trust  in 
Him :  and  He  shall  bring  it  to  pass.'  Has  not  that  been 
true,  my  child,  and  you  and  Craig  have  your  heart's 
desire?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is  true,  dear  Lady  Mary.  That  is  my 
favourite  Psalm,  but  I  forgot  it  would  be  the  one  for 
to-night.  "  Dearest,  you  must  promise  not  to  be  dull 
to-morrow  when  we  have  gone.  You  will  have  Heath 
and  the  children." 

"  Dull !  when  my  child  is  so  happy." 

"  No,  you  are  too  unselfish,"  kissing  her  hand,  "  and 
I  know  how  good  they  will  all  be  to  you.  And  you  must 
not  be  dull  either  when  I  go  to  my  new  home,  for  we 
shall  see  each  other  every  day  and  have  our  dear  old 
talks.    I  shall  be  more  than  ever  your  child  then." 

"  I  know  it,  darling,  and  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  and 
happy.  Do  you  remember,  Joan,  those  quaint  verses  I 
repeated  to  you  one  night  when  we  were  both  sad  at 
heart  and  the  future  looked  rather  gloomy — '  He  holds 
the  key  of  all  unknown  '  ?  And  as  Joan  smiled  assent, 
Lady  Mary  went  on — "  Surely  you  and  I  may  be  glad. 
If  the  key  had  been  put  into  our  hands,  we  might  only 
have  bungled  the  work  and  done  the  wrong  thing.  But 
now  all  is  well,  my  darling,  for  '  He  has  brought  it  to 
pass.'  "  And  Joan  softly  murmured  "  Amen  "  under 
her  breath. 

THE  END 


THE  LIBRARY 
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